A Strong Will
by Dread Pirate Rinja
Summary: Caught in a deadly game of the enemy's politics, how far will one hitokiri go to keep his promise to live? Gen, Bakumatsu fic.
1. 1 :: Deception

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license and translation. The setting and characters are used without permission, at no profit to the author of this fanwork._

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**A Strong Will**  
_Rurouni Kenshin_

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**Chapter 1: Deception**  
_Near Nara, 1866_

The weather had been exceptionally warm that year in Nara; hot, oppressive air choked lungs mercilessly by day, but had mercifully cleared that evening with a light breeze. Himura Kenshin distantly enjoyed the slight drop in temperature, allowing the gentle wind to ventilate his sweat-soaked navy _gi _as he crouched atop the grassy bank of a hill overlooking his current assignment's impressive estate half a day's walk from Nara city. He had originally taken this post to scout out the road and all possible routes of invasion, but as the layout for the area set firmly in his mind, he took a small measure of rest to enjoy the sunset. His piercing amber eyes subconsciously continued to watch for any sign of enemy movement, though his thoughts traveled elsewhere.

He had taken the assignment from Katsura only after strong reassurance that Tanaka Shinichi's protection truly aided the cause. Apparently, Tanaka had been supplying Katsura's faction with weapons and information for quite some time, and the Shinsengumi had managed to catch wind of Tanaka's dealings. Normally, Kenshin would have thought nothing of the assignment – it resembled much of his typical work these days. When he learned that Tanaka had specifically asked Katsura to send hitokiri Battousai to his aid, instinct cried a warning in Kenshin's mind. Katsura, who had some political business in Osaka and was near enough to Tanaka's place of business, had agreed to lend his assassin. Something about it seemed off, and despite Katsura's faith in the man's integrity and Kenshin's own agreement to take charge of Tanaka's guard, Kenshin was still uncomfortable about the assignment.

Regardless of how he felt, he had already promised long ago that he'd act as Katsura's sword – and he would keep his word, even as he felt his humanity slip through his fingers with each passing day. He couldn't disobey Katsura. Not now.

With that in mind, Kenshin brushed aside the strong suspicions and distrust along with the loose silken strands of blood-red hair the wind tossed in his face. Doubt would only cloud his judgement at the moment, and he couldn't afford to lose concentration if the Shinsengumi were indeed targeting the establishment below him. He had made travel plans for that evening with Tanaka; hopefully they would be long gone before any of the bakufu's prized guard set foot on the property. He really did not want to destroy lives tonight if he could avoid it, especially when every new drop of blood spilt by his hands brought him further away from redemption – if he could achieve such a thing after all he'd done – and from _her_. Tomoe.

His fingertips lightly traced the cross-shaped scar marring the smooth, pale skin of his left cheek. It was one of the few physical connections he had left to the woman who had saved him from himself. Sometimes he could see her – smell the sensuous aroma of her white plum fragrance – when he touched it. At other times, he would see her lying prostrate on the ground before him, struck down and bleeding from the blow he'd dealt with his own hands, the scent of her coppery blood struggling against white plum for dominance. This time, she appeared before him with a sad, concerned expression. He lifted the lavender scarf from his neck, pressing it to his face in the hopes that he could catch even a small hint of her scent.

_Tomoe… I can only pray that it'll be a matter of time until I'm by your side. Would you still accept me then, as tainted as I am?_

And in his mind, she smiled lightly for him; he knew he still had many things to do before then. He sighed in weary acceptance, watching her nod sadly in reply to his consternation. Swallowing his selfish desire to follow her into death, he lowered the scarf from his face and straightened into a standing position. The sun had set, and as dusk quickly faded into night, Tanaka was probably wondering by now what was taking him so long.

As he turned quietly from his post, a strong sense of hostility pricked at his senses from a distance. He whirled, focusing his well-trained sight sharply to see if he could find the source of the aura within his field of vision. His heart sank as he spotted a collection of faintly glowing lights about five or so kilometers from the estate.

"Himura-san?"

The timid voice almost made him jump as he whirled on the intruder, hand instinctively moving to cover the hilt of his katana. The small, wiry captain of Tanaka's personal guard flinched and backpedaled in response, forcing Kenshin to pull his hand away from his sword, softening some of the dangerous ice from his eyes. He took a calming breath and quirked an eyebrow in querying response as the captain pawed the ground with his foot, obviously nervous to be in Battousai's presence. To be truthful, Kenshin felt a tad guilty about startling the poor man, but he didn't want to admit that he'd also been startled. _You really need to focus more, or you'll be in trouble if you have to fight, _he scolded himself.

"Yes?" Kenshin asked neutrally, once he was sure he'd calmed his hammering heart enough to provide an even tone of voice.

"So sorry to trouble you, Himura-san, but Tanaka-sama has been asking after you," the captain said quickly. "He says he has nearly finished preparations to leave, and desires to make sure you inspect everything before we leave."

Kenshin nodded lightly, but frowned over his shoulder at the approaching cluster of lights. The aura coming from that direction was unmistakably distinctive of an enemy; he wasn't sure they would have time to escape before the lights caught up to them.

"Is something the matter?" the captain inquired, nervous as he saw Battousai tense.

Fight or flight? Kenshin quickly calculated a plan in his mind and turned back to face the captain. "Aa," he said gravely. "It would appear that we don't have much time before the enemy arrives. Please close the gates and ready the guards, and inform Tanaka-sama that I will be right there." Regretful – Tanaka's men would undoubtedly suffer casualties tonight, if it was the Shinsengumi approaching. Possibly devastating casualties, if deadly celebrities such as Okita Souji or Saitou Hajime accompanied the division.

_Damn._

The captain hardly suppressed his wide-eyed surprise as he nodded curtly, hastily saluted, then turned to run back towards the main entrance to the estate. Kenshin watched him leave before he steeled his nerve, switching with frightening ease to battle mentality as he faded into his surroundings to get a closer look at the approaching enemy.

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After the frazzled captain left his office, Tanaka sighed deeply. The news of the approaching enemy did not surprise him; in fact, they were as prompt as had been promised. The plan was in motion and moving smoothly – he should feel confident, but didn't. Battousai didn't trust him. He'd known from the moment they'd been introduced and the boy-assassin regarded him with a wary, icy-golden gaze that he would have to be extremely careful if the plan were to succeed. 

Yet part of him didn't really want to succeed. He was still unsure about his own feelings on the whole situation. True, Battousai was incredibly frightening and possibly a menace to society. On the other hand, he was just a boy doing what he'd been ordered to do. He turned the thoughts over in his mind slowly, guilt twisting his innards sharply as he ultimately chose to continue. He couldn't risk turning back now – not with the Shinsengumi so close at hand.

Somewhere mingled with the feelings of guilt and resolution, he felt the creeping sensation that he wouldn't make it through the night. Somehow, he knew he wasn't going to. He smirked wryly with the realization, sighing once more as he tried to settle the whirlwind of emotion tearing through his chest. He didn't have a choice, really. It had to be done. He could only hope that his one small sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. One more thing remained to be done before he could proceed with the plan.

As he reached for the brush and ink, his hand wouldn't stop shaking.

_Damn it all. Please forgive me someday, Katsura. I hope you will understand why… why I had to do this. Please… I'm so sorry. _

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Cooled air blew Kenshin's crimson bangs from his face as he rushed back towards the estate. He hoped he hadn't alerted them to his presence as he scouted out the enemy – it _had _been Shinsengumi, and a lot of them – but it wouldn't matter as he knew confrontation was inevitable regardless. Once he'd approached the wall, he debated jumping over it in stealth to get to Tanaka with his report faster, but decided not to risk being mistaken by the guards for the enemy. The guard at the front gate jumped in surprise when he suddenly appeared, and quickly fumbled to let him into the estate without question. 

Kenshin jogged towards the main building, guards parting _shoji _hurriedly before him. As he quickly made his way to Tanaka's office, he turned his findings over in his mind. There had been a _damn_ large number of Shinsengumi; surely Tanaka hadn't been so important a figure of the Ishin Shishi to warrant such a large assault against him from the enemy? That only left one option in his mind – perhaps the target wasn't Tanaka, but Kenshin himself. If that was the case, then there had to be a mole in Tanaka's guard or in Katsura's chain of command; nobody else should have known about this assignment. The Shinsengumi's numbers made more sense if he was the real target in this case.

Doubt born from instinct crept back into his mind, clawing at his current thoughts on the predicament. Perhaps the mole had been Tanaka himself; after all, he had been the one to ask specifically for Battousai's aid, and everything about the man's actions seemed suspicious to Kenshin now. Katsura's firm expression appeared in his mind, insisting his faith in Tanaka's proclaimed loyalties. Damn, but his instinct said…

_I have to go with what Katsura-san insists is true, or I will be betraying his trust. I have to trust Katsura's judgement. I must!_

Kenshin finally approached the closed _shoji_ that enclosed Tanaka's office with some measure of shaky resolve. The guards posted outside the room noted his presence with quick nods, slid the _shoji_ aside for him to allow him to enter, and then slid them shut behind him.

"Tanaka-sama, did you receive my warning?" he asked, keeping his voice low enough to stay within the paper-thin walls of the office.

Tanaka looked up from packing documents with a hint of worry evident in his expression. "Aa, Captain Hoshino informed me about the enemy… have you found out anything more about it yet?"

"Two divisions of Shinsengumi are approaching. We do not have time to evacuate the premises before they arrive, but I do want you to be ready to run in the case that the opportunity to escape arises," Kenshin replied. Tanaka looked fairly frightened by the prospect, but appeared to be trying to cover his anxiety with a calm disposition. "Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"

"Aa," Tanaka affirmed. "I think I can be ready that quickly."

Kenshin nodded. "I will return in ten. Wait here." He turned and left before Tanaka had a chance to reply, missing the rueful look that spread across the man's face as he hastily went to find Hoshino.

_By my estimation, we have about twenty minutes before they arrive if they continue at the pace they were going when I saw them last. Hopefully Hoshino will understand the fact that they will have to give up many lives tonight if they wish for Tanaka's safety – they will be acting as a distraction and wall to the Shinsengumi, and will only need to last long enough for me to get Tanaka out of here and on the path to safety. Gods, I hope that they didn't sense me earlier…_

With the plans set in his mind, he spent five minutes locating Hoshino and informed him of the situation. Hoshino looked mildly afraid, but he'd since had some time to summon steely determination to protect his liege lord.

"I'm sorry," Kenshin murmured quietly. "I wish we had more time to get away and avoid casualties, but…"

"I understand," Hoshino replied with a grim smile. "This is what we've been trained to do; so make sure you do your part and keep Tanaka out of their hands."

Kenshin suppressed his own smirk at the comment, slightly pleased that the man hadn't made some ridiculous statement about Battousai's rumored immortality and untouchable abilities. The small spoken action made him feel slightly more human in someone else's eyes, for once. He shook the warm feeling – small as it was – out of his system as he turned to head back towards Tanaka's office. But as soon as he set foot in the building, he felt an overwhelming sense of hostile _ki_ hit him with full force just before he heard the guards shouting. The signal flare flew up from the main gate a split-second after.

_Damn!_ He took off in a run towards Tanaka's office, not even bothering to remove his _zori _indoors for the sake of speed. _They must have discovered my presence; gods, I hope that Saitou isn't with them. We could be in serious trouble if he is._

Distantly, he heard the sounds of gunfire behind him, and cursed angrily as he realized that he hadn't noticed the gun battalion in his earlier assessment of the enemy. Each passing moment brought battle cries from the courtyard near the main gate, and Kenshin sped up more in his anger at the situation spiraling out of his control.

As he approached Tanaka's office, he picked up on several hostile _ki_ near the room. Fervently hoping he wasn't too late, he whipped his katana from its sheath and kept his eyes focused on his surroundings for any sign of movement. With a quick jerk against the _shoji_, he burst into Tanaka's office and nearly exhaled in relief when he saw Tanaka sitting at his desk, back to the door, unharmed.

"Change of plans," he said as soon as Tanaka turned his head slightly to acknowledge his presence. "We need to leave now, and take the third exit route. I think the other one has already been discovered…"

An apologetic look spread across Tanaka's features – not what Kenshin would have expected – and he rose slowly. Violent _ki_ flared, warning bells screamed furious obscenities in Kenshin's mind; he tried to dodge to the side as a bright light and loud report exploded from Tanaka's hand. Too slow – an invisible hand pounded into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs and sending the world spinning out of focus.

_D-Damn…_

Reality left him in a whirl of bright white pain.

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**_.end chapter 1._**

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_**Translations:**  
-san:_ an honorific added to names to denote Mr., Mrs., or Miss; in Japan, it is considered polite to use this suffix on a regular basis in conversation with other individuals.  
_ki:_ (chi, in Chinese) the aura or spirit of an individual 

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_**The "Not-Really-A-Foreword**"_

_That is indeed in quotation marks because I was afraid that if I put it at the beginning of the chapter, nobody would actually read the story. I mean, who actually reads the author's notes in an actual book? I promise this won't take too long, though._

_This chapter (and the next chapter) have been heavily edited _again _as of May 30, 2006. I made a historical boo-boo in a later chapter, and had to repair it by going backwards. My apologies for my failure as a proper historian and writer. Original version is complete, this is version 3.5ish. Overall, the changes have been pretty major. I might eventually post the first draft on my personal site just to show how different these two versions are. In addition, the new rating for this piece is now raised to M, due to more graphic violence, after the style of the Tsuiokuhen OVA movies._

_To all new readers (if there are any, hehe), welcome, and I hope I don't scare you off too quickly! If you have any questions, feel free to send me a PM or ask it in a review – either format is fine. My apologies for flooding this site with further horrid fiction, though if you do have something negative to say, please offer suggestions on how I might fix it (since I really do want to try to improve)._

_Please do leave a comment, and I would appreciate it greatly. Like, a lot. Comments are love._


	2. 2 :: Casualty

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license and translation. The setting and characters are used without permission, at no profit to the author of this fanwork._

_Warnings: This fanfiction's rating has been updated to reflect the violence in this (and later) chapters – it is now rated M. And I mean it._

_Many thanks to my beta reader, Nekotsuki. _

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**Chapter 2: Casualty**

_'To my dear family,_

_I am so sorry. I can only hope that you will understand when you read this. Please forgive me for what I have done, and for what I still am about to do.'_

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The small handgun bucked violently in Tanaka's grasp, and he couldn't help but close his eyes and flinch in reflex as the bullet reported loudly from the barrel. When he opened his eyes, he saw the young red-headed hitokiri jerk with a strangled grunt before he collapsed to the ground, unmoving. For a moment, his pounding heart skipped a beat with the realization that he'd hit his target. That small instant of victorious feeling quickly subsided, ceding to the guilt that clutched at his belly. 

"I'm sorry," he breathed in a choked whisper. "It was either your life, or the lives of my men and my family."

Lowering the gun to his side, he approached the hitokiri's body cautiously, ready to move just in case he had to. When he saw a small pool of red gathering beneath the boy's body, he turned his head and called for assistance. The shoji behind him slid open, and two of Tanaka's samurai vassals entered the room and flanked the unconscious assassin, rolling him over to check for vital signs. Tanaka watched idly as he quickly cleaned the pistol and loaded another shot into the barrel.

"He's still alive," one of the vassals said.

Tanaka nodded solemnly as he holstered the gun. "As requested. Come, we have a trade to make."

The two samurai hesitated, as if expecting the hitokiri to suddenly awaken and strike them both down. But when Battousai remained still as they prodded his limp body, they hefted the unconscious young man up between them and turned to follow Tanaka as he too turned to leave the room.

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_'I have disgraced our family name, stained my hands with the blood of those sent to protect me, and I no longer deserve to live as your caretaker. You never were supposed to be involved, but now I must continue down this path – and do much more of what I do not wish to do – in order to protect you. Please understand that I value your lives and well-being more than my own. Though I am placating the Shinsengumi, I fear that you will be targeted by them in case I fail, as they are not forgiving. Neither are the patriots, I'm afraid, and if I succeed, I don't want them to take my treachery out on you.'_

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When reality returned in a slow trickle, Kenshin couldn't tell if it was the uncomfortable jolting of being roughly suspended between two strong bodies that brought him back, or if the sharp throbbing in his gut was responsible. Either way, it took far too long for him to recall what had happened, and when he finally did, he immediately thrashed against the two who were carrying him roughly along the dark hallway. He wrenched himself from their grasps with the advantage of surprise and whirled to face them, staggering a few steps backward until he regained his balance. His head was spinning, and he couldn't quite catch his breath around the pain from his wound. The scrape of metal against wood brought him back into focus by sheer instinct; both guards were drawing their swords, and he immediately reached down to grasp his own – only to clutch at air. 

"_Shit!_ Tanaka-sama!" one guard shouted around the young assassin. Before Kenshin could turn to face the threat behind him, he felt a cold barrel pressed up against his back.

"Don't move, Himura-san," Tanaka stated quietly. "I don't want to have to hurt you more than I already have."

"You bastard—" Kenshin growled.

"I know what you're thinking, but there's more to this than you realize," the businessman said, almost sadly. "Please understand that I had no other choice."

"Tanaka-sama…" the second guard hissed in warning. "They're coming."

"Come. It'll be easier for you if you don't resist."

Kenshin bit back a harsh reply as Tanaka's firm grip on his arm turned him to lead him towards the main entrance of the compound. Something in the man's eyes made him hesitate, even around the sheer humiliation of being trapped – and _injured_ – by an inexperienced fighter, much less his own charge. He'd said he hadn't wanted to do this. Forced into it by the Shinsengumi, perhaps; but what the Shinsengumi held over him could be anything… money, hostages, possibly his own life. He wondered briefly if he could possibly keep his promise to Katsura and protect this man, but he didn't have enough time to come up with a coherent plan, and fighting a division of Shinsengumi didn't seem to be an option at the moment. _No_, he decided. He had to prioritize; Katsura would need to know about this before he too was fooled by Tanaka, which made his escape the main concern.

This wasn't going to be easy.

They were nearing the entrance, and Kenshin noted with a small measure of anger that he didn't hear any fighting going on outside. Tanaka's men must have been privy to at least that much information. At any rate, he was quickly running short on time. _Sword._ He needed one first, or at least a weapon of some kind. Briefly, he considered taking Tanaka's pistol from him, but it only carried a single shot, and he needed at least three. Tanaka's swords were just out of his reach from his current position. A brief glance behind him at the glaring guards, and he knew he'd have to take one of their weapons. The one on his left seemed the most nervous; that one would be the first to fall, should he move quickly enough to evade the closer guard's reaction.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment to shove the dull ache in his side to the back of his mind long enough to get out. He would bring his arm up in a circle to break Tanaka's hold on his arm, twist to the left, charge at the guard before he had a chance to react, steal the shorter wakizashi from its sheath, and take both guards down with it. Tanaka would be dealt with last, if he didn't pull off another shot before Kenshin could dodge it.

By now, Kenshin could sense the strong ki of a dozen fighters outside the building. Hopefully they wouldn't hear the scuffle and come to investigate before he got away. Snarling, he wrenched his arm from Tanaka's grip and whirled, charging the guard he'd selected as his first target. As he'd hoped, neither guard was prepared for his sudden attack. His target hastily swung down at him with a surprised cry; he easily evaded to the side, placing a hand on the hilt of the wakizashi stuffed into the man's belt, and used his momentum from the spinning dodge to pull the weapon from its sheath. With a quick two-handed grip, he finished his spin and slashed across the man's back, cutting through his spine with a sickening crunch of bone. The man fell before he could pull the short sword free, pulling Kenshin down with him. He relinquished his grip on the weapon with a grimace; the second guard was already on him, and he needed to move quickly.

"Shit!" he heard Tanaka shout, and could hear him fumbling with the pistol.

No more time left. His bare hands would have to do with this guard. He jumped back to evade a horizontal slash aimed at his middle, and continued to dodge as the man stepped around his comrade's body and continued to attack. Though the man seemed to be a more competent fighter than his comrade, Kenshin still saw an opening and took advantage of it. He ducked under a high swing and moved in close, breaking the man's range and momentarily stunning him with a hard blow to his gut. While the man gasped to catch his breath, Kenshin wasted no time in yanking the man's sword from his grasp and turning it on him, beheading him with a swift stroke. Kenshin winced as the movement sent a twinge of pain through his injury, but he steeled his composure, turned to face his final opponent, and hesitated when he saw the gleaming gun barrel aimed at him again.

"Hold it right there, Himura," Tanaka warned, "or I'll shoot."

"Tanaka, you don't have to do this," stated Kenshin quietly. "Please don't make me continue this fight."

Tanaka grunted wryly. "For someone with as infamous and bloody a reputation as you have, _Battousai_, you're awfully naïve. And unlike you, I don't have a choice in this matter. Drop the sword."

Kenshin stiffened, quickly pushing aside the mild offense he felt stinging from Tanaka's underhanded insult. "Perhaps I am naïve," he said sadly, "but I am an idealist, Tanaka-san. And you do have a choice; you can stop this now, and I won't have to end your life here."

"Himura, don't," Tanaka said, voice quivering ever so slightly. "I didn't want it to come to this."

"Nor did I. What could the Shinsengumi possibly have of yours that you would go against your own wishes? Is it your business? Your life? … Your family?" Tanaka flinched. Sorrow clenched at Kenshin's chest as he finally understood. "Do you not trust Katsura enough to know that he would do anything to help protect them?"

Tanaka looked pained. "I… I'm sorry, but the only person I can trust to protect my family is me. I don't want to do this, but you see that I really have no other choice."

Kenshin sensed that he was making little headway, and with a heavy heart, he forced himself to prepare to dodge Tanaka's bullet. Tanaka's hands shook as he took aim, though his finger tightened on the trigger regardless. A sudden pounding at the main door startled the businessman, forcing his finger down on the trigger. Kenshin dove to the side as the gun reported, a hot trail scraping across his arm causing him to hiss as he narrowly dodged a direct hit. He rolled into a low crouch, gauging his surroundings in a split second just before he lunged at Tanaka, sword already in motion. When his blade met with steel, he blinked in surprise to see that Tanaka had brought up his gun to block as he drew his own katana to attack from a point-blank range. Kenshin pushed against the block and flipped backward to put distance between himself and Tanaka's _battoujutsu_, felt the hint of displaced air as the swing fell short of his chest. When he felt a sharp stab in his middle, he realized that his wound might be more serious than he originally thought.

Apparently, Tanaka wasn't quite as incompetent a swordsman as Kenshin had anticipated. The man was a weapons dealer; perhaps Kenshin had underestimated the fact that he would actually know how to use his own merchandise.

This time, Tanaka charged with a yell, and Kenshin – off guard from his wound's sudden protest – went on the defensive, blocking a slash here, a thrust there. He was being pushed back, he soon realized, and would run out of room quickly if he didn't abolish the pained fog in his mind and focus. As he crossed swords with Tanaka once more, he put up his left hand along the flat side of the blade and pushed, causing Tanaka to stumble back a step. Kenshin pushed the tip of his sword into the tatami floorboards, and with a fierce yell, he then stepped forward and dragged the katana with him and, using his body to put more power into the swing, he jerked the sword sharply up, sending a powerful shock-wave that exploded through the floor towards Tanaka.

"_Do ryu sen_!"

The businessman grunted as he raised his arms to shield his face from debris; Kenshin used this opening to leap high into the air, allowing gravity to assist in a powerful downward strike aimed for Tanaka's head. Tanaka brought up his sword to block and stepped to the side – but not quickly enough. Kenshin grimaced as he felt metal, then flesh and bone give way under the _ryu tsui sen_, a warm spray of blood catching his chin as he hit the ground. Tanaka shuddered, a look of shock crossing his features as he stared at the broken end of his blade before he crumbled to the ground, left shoulder cleaved open.

Kenshin slowly rose, breathing heavily as he used his katana to steady his shaking legs as he stood over Tanaka. The man lying before him sported that familiar wound, and he was suddenly replaced with a woman clad in white.

"_I'm so sorry, beloved…"_

"Heh…" Tanaka snorted, bringing Kenshin back to reality before the sensual aroma of white plums could reach him from the burdening recollection. "L-Looks like… I couldn't do… anything for them, anyway."

Kenshin felt hot tears welling up in his eyes, guilt eating away at him as he watched this man die.

"Don't look… at me like that," Tanaka admonished quietly. "It's my own… fault. B-But if you could do me… one last favor, I'd be… grateful."

Kenshin nodded solemnly as he knelt down. Tanaka struggled to reach inside his gi, where he retrieved a crumpled, blood-spotted paper with shaking hands and pressed it firmly into Kenshin's palm. "T-Take this to… Katsura. Tell… tell him to leave… quickly, and that… you were only… supposed to be a d-distraction."

"What?" Kenshin's eyes widened in surprise at the statement. When Tanaka's eyes began to close, he shook the man until his pain-clouded eyes peered back. "Tanaka! What do you mean by that?"

"They… they wanted him to think… that they're only… attacking here. They just needed… you out of Kyoto… and dead, t-to break… him…" The businessman grimaced, gasping for air that wouldn't fill his torn lungs. "You… you have to tell him that… I'm sorry." He smiled then, bloody lips pressed into a thin line as he sighed his last breath away.

"Tanaka!" Kenshin growled. "_Damn it!_"

Shoving the letter into his gi, he pushed himself to his feet, swaying only slightly as he took back the stolen sword and snatched its sheath from the dead body it once belonged to. First he checked his surroundings. The strong ki from outside the gate hadn't yet moved; he might still have a little time before they realized that he wasn't going to come out the front quietly. Moving as quickly as he dared, he stepped lightly across the wooden floorboards, keeping to the shadows as he approached the back of the building – which led to the back gate of the complex. It seemed to have the least amount of people mulling around. With the back door in sight, he realized with a sinking feeling that he wouldn't get out of the gate unnoticed, as he'd hoped. The Shinsengumi were no fools; they'd sent a few men around to the back as well, unless the auras he sensed belonged to Tanaka's men.

With a light hiss, Kenshin pressed a hand to the small hole in the flesh of his abdomen, checking to make sure it could withstand heavy exertion. His wound seemed to have stopped bleeding, though it was horribly tender to the touch, and throbbed every time he tried to twist around. The small groove on his arm was of no concern; it was merely a superficial wound that would heal quickly as long as it didn't get infected. It didn't really matter, though, since he would have to fight even if he wasn't ready. He had to get to Katsura.

Two men were patrolling between the back door and gate, both with strong ki; Kenshin was able to discern only that much when he reached the back door of the building. If he moved quickly enough, he would easily have the element of surprise on his side; however, he wasn't sure how much his wound would slow him down, and if he could clamp down on his own ki during his approach. After a moment of shifting about to test his limits, he decided he didn't have a choice, though he would be able to take down one guard uninhibited.

Crouching by the doorframe, Kenshin peered into the night and managed to locate his obstacles rather easily in the dark. He selected the closest one, set his target, and with a deep breath he used his crouch as a spring to propel him towards that guard. The man hardly turned before Kenshin was upon him, sword flashing briefly as it struck down through the man's unprotected skull and cleaving it in two in a spray of crimson. The second guard was alerted by the movement, and as Kenshin jerked his sword free from the first guard to attack, only to feel his injury twinge with the effort. The hesitation was only slight, but just enough for the guard to come after him first. He'd calculated the risk at the start, so by the time the guard launched his attack, Kenshin was already in motion. With a swift, arcing stroke, the tip of the second guard's sword dangerously whirled through the air to plunge into the thick wooden panel of the gate. Less than one second later, the guard let out a choked cry as a crimson spurt erupted from his shoulder. He too fell, unmoving.

Standing shakily, Kenshin steadied himself before flicking the wrist that clutched the sword hilt to free the blade of his enemies' blood. He nearly lost his grip on the katana as his own blood pooled at his palm and made the pommel slick. Blinking rapidly to clear the dazed fog from his brain, he forced himself to extend his _ki_. In his current condition, he wouldn't be able to take many more of these guards head-on, so he would need the foresight.

However, all the foresight gave him was a split second to half-dodge an incoming bullet. The explosion from the rifle hadn't even registered in his mind until after he sensed the projectile coming his way, and that worried him… almost as much as the newfound pain in his calf where the bullet managed to nick him. The pain awoke the adrenalin in his blood, and the world snapped back into focus.

Once Kenshin had estimated the most probable trajectory for the bullet, he took cover as quickly as he possibly could behind one of the open gate doors. As long as the soldier with the gun had his sights on him, and until he could get a visual on the sniper, he had to stay low. A thicket surrounded the Tanaka estate outside its gates; Kenshin's enemy had to be in there somewhere. The guy had to be reloading, too; Kenshin thought he heard metal sliding against metal, and then a soft snap followed by a distinct click as the rifle was cocked for firing. The gunman was close, and he only had a single-shot weapon. If he could lure the shot, he might have time to attack while the gunman reloaded his weapon. He spared a glance at the corpse of the nearest guard he had dispatched. Hopefully the gunman was jumpy… but if not, Kenshin knew he was in big trouble.

_I really _hate_ guns._

Keeping the gate between himself and the gunman, Kenshin sheathed his own sword and crept over to the fallen guard and worked the scabbard from the man's obi. Clutching it close to him, he edged back to the gate, and taking a deep breath, he tensed in preparation for attack. He waved the sheath around in the air past the opening in the gate. A loud report sounded as the gunman took the bait – much to Kenshin's relief – and then muttered curses floated through the air as the man realized what had just happened. The swearing led Kenshin straight to his position, and Kenshin leapt to action. Though he was quick in his approach, the man had already dropped his rifle to the ground and tried to bring up a block with his sword while Kenshin attacked. Ducking under a sloppy one-handed swing aimed at his neck, he thrust his sword into the gunman's chest, closing his eyes to avoid the inevitable spray of blood. But before the man fell – and much to Kenshin's horrified surprise – he cried out as the dying gunman forced a tanto between the ribs in his left side, near his back. A brief grin of satisfaction passed across the soldier's face before it relaxed in death.

Kenshin grimaced as he tugged his katana free from the body. White-hot pain shot down his spine from the movement, his other wounds dully protesting in the background. It was then that the feeling of adrenalin seeped its way from his blood, leaving him feeling lightheaded and weak at the knees. Staggering a few steps, he groped out blindly for support and ended up painfully smacking his hand against a tree. With a colorful curse, Kenshin shook his hand and glared at the tree briefly before leaning his head against it. His knees buckled under him shortly after, bearing him to the ground facing the tree. Shaking hands felt for the hilt of the tanto, fumbling as his own blood foiled his attempts at a grip. The pain was nearly unbearable, but somehow he managed to wrench the small blade free from his ribs. A warm trickle of liquid seeped from the wound, staining his already-soiled gi and hakama further. When his vision wavered, he leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and swore under his panting breath.

_Can this damn night get worse?_ he wondered briefly. As if in response to his question, he faintly picked up on another presence making its way towards him. _Damn it all._

"Who is there?" the man called warily, from a distance. So he'd sensed Kenshin as well; it didn't bode well for the wounded hitokiri.

Kenshin mustered as much strength as he could summon, pulling himself to his feet and allowing the sharp pains to kick his adrenalin back into action. Focusing, he was able to see the man several paces down the path, sword drawn and ready for battle. Twisting as far as he dared to test his limits, he was glad to see that he still had enough range of motion to carry out a few more attacks – if he was accurate. However, he realized that if he ran across any other soldiers after this man, he would be dead.

_No, I won't allow that to happen!_

Taking a shaky – but determined – step forward, Kenshin icily stated, "You're in my path."

The man jumped ever so slightly, but when he recovered from his initial surprise, he scrutinized the young redhead with a scowl. "You're wounded."

"It is no matter. Allow me to pass peacefully, and you will hang on to your life for one more night."

"Hah," the man scoffed. "I think not, boy." Kenshin raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to come with me; I can see the bodies of my comrades at your feet."

"You will move or you will die – this is your last warning."

"Fine, then. Have it your way; it's your own funeral. I am Morimoto Kiyoshi of the Sakamori school. Name yourself!"

Kenshin allowed himself a small smirk. Despite Kiyoshi's smooth, confident voice, the redhead could feel the anxiety pouring off him in waves. This man had smelled some of the danger of Battousai, and was uneasy.

"A hitokiri needs no introduction." Kenshin allowed that to sink in for a moment before he added a little more softly, "You may leave now if you wish to live."

Anxiety was rapidly replaced with fear. So Kiyoshi did realize who stood before him, Kenshin mused. Sometimes the reputation wasn't such a bad thing.

"Y-You're the Battousai!" Kiyoshi accused, pointing as if it would clarify his statement.

Kenshin advanced a step, and the man stumbled back several. "My offer remains."

Kiyoshi's lip curled into a harsh snarl as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his raised katana. "You _bastard_. You killed Tanaka-sama, didn't you? I will rid this world of you, you filthy, bloody demon!"

With a strangled cry, Kiyoshi launched himself at the Battousai, moonlight glinting off his waving sword. Relieved, Kenshin noted that the man hardly used proper basic technique with the sword, and with a simple dodge and counter, a red stripe formed across Kiyoshi's midsection. Kenshin tried to ignore the gurgling death cries of the soldier as he walked away.

The countering move took more out of Kenshin than he would have liked to admit. Keeping his composure long enough to get away from the dead bodies near the gate was nigh impossible; however, he managed to avoid collapsing until he made it further down the path toward Nara. His body was so tired and pained that the road seemed to turn upside down on him, even while lying still. Nauseated, he swallowed and tried not to revisit his hours-old dinner. Part of him wanted to rest, to roll off further to the side of the road and conceal himself long enough to gather the strength needed to make it back to the city. The idea sounded so nice, in fact, that he found that he was already off to the side of the path, face-first in the underbrush, without being able to recall how he made it there, though his throbbing injuries seemed to have an idea.

He cursed himself for losing focus, turning to the only way he knew how to regain it in his condition. He argued with himself.

_It shouldn't have happened like this. I… I'm better than that. I could have stopped Tanaka. I… could – should have avoided the needless bloodshed._

_But you lost focus, and now it's happened. So now what are you going to do?_

_Stay here. Wait… until the pain passes enough for me to focus again. Need to focus…__A little pain won't kill me…_

_Damn, but it hurts._

Suddenly, he sensed a handful of strong, intensely hostile presences down the path, not far from the back gate. _Shinsengumi,_ his instinct said. _Shit,_ echoed his mind. First and foremost, he needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and those crazed samurai. He placed a shaking hand on the ground beside his head, trying to lift himself up to lean against the tree trunk. He failed. The ground beneath his fingers was damp and smelled of earth and salty copper. His blood.

_Maybe it isn't such a bad idea to wait for them…_

"_They… they wanted him to think… that they're only… attacking here. They just needed… you out of Kyoto…"_

"Shit," Kenshin muttered aloud, finally remembering why he _had_ no choice but to get back to Katsura in time to either warn or protect him. He was a half-day's walk from Nara; in his current condition, he might be able to make it in a day, he decided with a grim frown. Definitely not optimal, but it was all he could do… even if it wasn't enough.

Using the sheath of the katana to push himself to his feet, and then to steady himself, Kenshin took several staggering steps forward, focusing only on the pain from his wounds, trying to ignore the fact that not all of them had closed.

_Katsura – I will protect you, even if it means the death of me!_

* * *

Hours later, Kenshin grimaced as the sun's blinding rays bore down from above as he left the thicket, feebly raising a bloodied hand to block the rays from his sensitive vision. He was further along than he'd initially expected himself to be, now that it was long past mid-day; perhaps he would make it to Nara by dusk. However, despite the fact that the wounds had receded to dull throbs rather than sharp pains, he started to feel concerned. His vision would swim out of focus far too often – and for too long, and he'd been feeling nauseated for quite some time now. Something that went beyond physical wounds was weighing his body down, and he had a bad feeling that he wasn't going to make it far enough to find out what it was. 

The only thing that kept him moving was his strong will to fulfill his duty, to warn Katsura of the coming danger and the argument that had continued to rage within to fuel what small amount of adrenaline still coursed through his veins. It was his only hold on consciousness. Eying the sun worriedly, he reminded himself that he couldn't pass out yet. But the gods hadn't had enough of tormenting him; he stubbed his toe on a rock, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. The jolt sent waves of sharp pain through his entire body, and he nearly lost consciousness. He swore at the rock through gritted teeth.

_This is bad, really bad. If I can't even handle a little bump like that, I won't be able to help defend Katsura if I'm running late._

_Nara isn't far… just a little further…_

As he rounded a bend on the small trail, he saw the outskirts of the city not far down the path. He breathed an agonizing sigh of relief and quickened his pace, hoping to get there quickly to warn Katsura before his body gave out. He clamped down on a knot of adrenaline in his gut, forcing one foot in front of the other, coaxing himself along as much as he possibly could.

_Just a little further… _

The Choshu hideout in Nara was a tiny inn called Kuroyama, with a crabby old woman – who called herself Sato-baa – as its proprietor. It wasn't too deep within the city itself, which was just as well for Kenshin as he staggered along the widening dirt road, ignoring the stares from anyone who happened to pass by him in the fading daylight. He hated being out in the open, but at this point he was too exhausted to do anything about it.

_I must look like I've been dragged through Hell itself, though,_ he mused.

When he finally spotted Kuroyama-Ya, he breathed a sigh of relief; it looked like it hadn't been attacked. He did manage to wearily look about to make sure nobody watched him as he staggered around to the back of the building. The knot of adrenalin he'd been feeding off in his gut had diminished and would fade soon, but he clung on to it desperately.

_N-Not yet. I just have to speak to Katsura first._

Kenshin knocked weakly on the back door, only managing two louder taps before it slid open to reveal the wizened, scowling face of Sato-baa. Her eyes widened when they met with his, and before he could say anything her frown faded to worried shock as she reached out to steady him.

"Himura-san!" she exclaimed. "Oh gods, what on earth happened to you?" Before he could even hope to reply, she'd turned her head and yelled over her shoulder for help.

"K-Katsura…" Kenshin managed to say. "Please – I… I need to speak with Katsura."

Sato-baa looked even more worried at the request, but nodded slowly. When the stable hand came to help her support the redhead, she spoke to him in low tones that Kenshin wasn't quite aware enough to catch, other than that they were speaking. The stable boy – at Sato-baa's direction – managed to get Kenshin laid out on a clean futon in one of the rooms, while one of the kitchen helpers brought hot water and towels.

"S-Sato-baa…" Kenshin murmured, holding onto consciousness with sheer willpower.

"Shh, now you should just rest, Himura-san," the elderly proprietor soothed. "The doctor is on his way; you'll be just fine."

"K-Katsura… where…?"

Kenshin's steady gaze was clouded with pain and exhaustion, but even then it was still intense enough that Sato-baa felt the need to reply. She sighed sadly, shaking her head.

"Katsura… heard about the attack and assumed you were dead. He left this morning, and is on his way back to Kyoto."

The relief – and at the same time, upset – was enough that it jolted Kenshin's grip on his adrenalin knot. It unraveled painfully inside his belly, sending him into the darkness.

* * *

_**.end chapter 2.**_

* * *


	3. 3 :: To Live

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license and translation. The setting and characters are used without permission, at no profit to the author of this fanwork._

_Warnings: graphic violence, language, and potentially disturbing themes throughout the story as a whole._

_Many thanks to my beta reader, Nekotsuki._

* * *

**Chapter 3: To Live**

What started as a gentle summer's shower slowly turned violent, winds gaining strength and turning the fragile raindrops into pellets that stung the courier's exposed skin as he spurned his horse into a faster gallop. He opted to ignore the rain, pulling his wide-brimmed straw hat further over his face with a cloth-covered hand as he clutched the horse's reigns even tighter in the other. After all, the news he bore was as urgent as the previous news he'd brought the Ishin leader, and the courier smirked as he knew that at least the news was half-good this time.

Checking over his shoulder once, he squinted in the rain to make sure he wasn't being pursued. One of the greatest risks in working with the patriots was that his job was hazardous to a fault; many of his comrades in this line of business had been killed, and in more frequency of late than previously. The Shinsengumi were tightening their grip on society, and it only showed that they still perceived the Ishin Shishi as a threat. He couldn't afford to allow them to catch him; he would become a liability to the Ishin under the rather persuasive methods of interrogation the Shinsen were so fond of.

Relieved to find nobody in his wake, the courier took a deep breath and focused only on the road ahead. He had been fortunate to have several good nights of rest prior to this, since the route between Kyoto and Nara was strenuous when one was in a great hurry. For once, he was grateful for the rain; it kept him aware, and he would be spending many more hours ahead on the road.

* * *

"Damn." 

The single, quiet word floated across the small room like a fleeting whisper, causing the man kneeling at the open shoji to flinch. Takeshi was only a messenger, damn it; Shigure had been too and wasn't at fault, but he had already been killed on the spot for the ill news he'd reported to their captain. Takeshi hoped his master – who currently cleaned his bloodied katana with a scowl etched into his strong features – would keep that in mind, and that Shigure would be the only one who died for it. The ones who had failed had already paid a price for it with their lives… wasn't that enough?

"Is that all, Takeshi-san? Or am I to expect further bad news from you?" Beady eyes fixed on the courier, who only bowed lower, trying to ignore the stench of blood currently oozing from his comrade's adjacent corpse.

"N-No, Captain. That was the extent of the message, unless you would excuse my humble observations on the matter as well," the courier said quietly, and almost too quickly. He could hardly keep his voice even under the venomous stare of the Shinsen captain towering above him, after what he'd seen happen to Shigure. The captain seemed intrigued as he sheathed his katana. Takeshi nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but thought better of it.

"So there is more to this than just Tanaka's failure?" the captain asked, raising an eyebrow. "You have my permission to speak."

The courier swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. "That assassin – Battousai – he was badly wounded when he left the complex," Takeshi said in a low voice. "There was a trail of blood that led out the back of the complex, and I followed the trail all the way to Nara."

"Oh? And what makes you think that it was Battousai's blood, Takeshi-san?"

Takeshi knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but now he'd have to explain that he had seen Battousai wounded, and hadn't capitalize on the opportunity to take him down. But at least – he hoped – he would be helping rid the demon from society, even if he wouldn't be alive to see it.

"I saw him, Captain," he whispered. "He was horribly pale, blood all over his hands, staggering like a drunken man, and even then he was able to take another Shinsen swordsman down with skill unlike anything I'd ever seen. That Battousai… is a demon."

The captain seemed to allow that to sink in for a moment, then asked almost serenely, "Aren't our couriers armed with single-shot pistols?"

Takeshi blanched and refused to meet his captain's gaze. He knew what was coming next, and didn't have a good explanation for it, either. "We are."

"What happened to yours?"

"It wasn't loaded, captain. I'm not skilled enough with a gun to load and fire it quickly enough to handle someone like Battousai."

The captain frowned, as if he hadn't been expecting such a self-demeaning answer. "You're still a soldier, Courier-san. You could have at least tried to shoot the bastard."

Takeshi heard a sword being drawn from its sheath and stayed low, though he was surprised that there hadn't been venom in the man's voice this time. He waited patiently for the fatal blow he thought would be delivered to his outstretched neck. Instead, to his surprise, he saw the captain's large hand place a tanto on the ground before him.

"You have failed, Takeshi-san. An enemy escaped from a fight. You know the rule," the captain stated gravely.

Yes, he should have known. The captain had calmed considerably since he'd killed Shigure, and was now returning to the book. Seppuku was the punishment for breaking the rules. And although he hadn't directly been part of the fight, he had let the enemy escape. Takeshi nodded, taking the tanto from the ground before him.

"By tomorrow morning, Takeshi," the captain stated. "You may go now, and spend your last night as you please."

"Yes, captain."

The captain watched neutrally as the courier took the tanto and left, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suddenly he seemed to become aware of the dead body that still lay in his chambers, and with a frustrated scowl, he flung open the shoji that led to the courtyard and called for a servant to come clean up the mess. Several skittish young men bustled in, quickly disposing of the body before they scrubbed the blood from the tatami. As they worked, the captain stared out into the storm-soaked courtyard, regarding the heavy rain with a light frown.

Katsura had won that round, he decided angrily. He should have gone with his men to ensure that they did their jobs properly. It was one of his only chances to prove to the headquarters in Kyoto that he was capable of keeping the fledgling Nara sect in order, to prove that they could actually become a separate branch. But this recent failure put a rather horrid mark on the small record of the Nara Shinsengumi. Battousai had been able to get away – despite being wounded – and Katsura had evaded the troupe sent after him as well. It was a low blow to their pride. The man was likely long gone back to Choshu, and it wouldn't do any good to try to track him down now after so much time had passed. But Battousai…

Oh. Of course, Battousai hadn't been with Katsura when he'd made his escape. If the hitokiri was as badly wounded as the courier had said he was, then he couldn't have gone far from Nara. He might head to Kyoto. And he wouldn't have Katsura to guard him, either.

Slowly, a smirk spread across the captain's face as a plan formulated in the back of his mind. Finally, he was given a chance that would force the other Shinsen captains to acknowledge his strength. If he could get his hands on both Katsura and Battousai when neither Saitou – or even Okita, the strongest swordsman in the Shinsengumi, for that matter – could, he wondered what kind of reward would be waiting for him.

And that, he decided, was a happy thought.

"Katsura-san, that was the last time you will evade Matsuo Ryuichi," he muttered as he smiled out into the rain.

* * *

"Oh god," Katsura breathed. "This is directly from Sato-baa?" 

"Yes, sir." The muddied and rain-soaked courier bowed lower, noting a sickened change in Katsura's expression. "I too saw Battousai alive, though he almost didn't look it at a first glance."

"I need to get him out of Nara," the Ishin leader said gravely, almost to himself as he grabbed a roll of parchment, a fine-tipped brush, and some ink. He quickly wrote a letter of instruction on the parchment, blowing on it to dry it when he'd finished, and tied the rolled message off with a leather string. He eyed the courier appraisingly for a moment, and then asked, "Yugawa-san, are you able to handle another round trip from here to Nara and back?"

Yugawa had been expecting the question, and in his desire to be helpful to the patriots' cause, he eagerly replied, "Yes, Katsura-sama. I can make a hundred such trips if you require me to do it."

Katsura allowed himself a brief smile before he handed the message to Yugawa. "Make sure you quickly get something from the kitchen for the road. Though time is of the utmost importance, I can't have you collapsing on the job from lack of nourishment."

"Yes, Katsura-sama."

Once the courier had left, Katsura stared worriedly out into the rain. Though he had been horrified by the initial news that proclaimed the defense on the Tanaka estate had been obliterated, and that Himura had been killed in the battle, this news was almost just as difficult to bear. The fact that the hitokiri lived was good news, but the fact that he might die from what sounded like multiple wounds was an ill report. If the Shinsengumi still planned to attack the Nara hideout even after he had fled…

No, he determined. He would just have to trust his comrades to carry out his instructions swiftly. Despite the danger that coming to Kyoto presented, he knew it was more dangerous to leave Himura in Nara. Worrying now would not help the hitokiri live through the trip, nor would it keep the Shinsengumi from looking for him there.

With a sigh, Katsura summoned one of the inn's maids, and asked her to deliver a message for him, and to have them prepare his belongings for departure. If Himura was badly wounded, he wouldn't make it to Kyoto.

* * *

He wavered on the edge of awareness and unconsciousness for a long while. Whenever he tried to slip into the warm embrace of the beckoning abyss of his mind, a sharp jolt and extreme pain would bring him back to the world of muffled, urgent voices and bitter cold wind. At times, he thought he heard familiar voices calling out his name, but he could never be sure. His entire body vibrated despite the firm grips on his shoulders – which also hurt greatly – and made it difficult to rest. He thought he saw Tanaka's face, bloodied and smirking, hovering over his own. But that couldn't be the case; Tanaka was dead, killed by his own hands. It had to be an angry spirit. Tanaka's ghost wasn't the only one haunting him, either, but he certainly was the loudest at the moment. 

"_You've killed my family by killing me, Battousai. Are you that naïve?"_

No, he hadn't killed the man's family too, had he? In the dark, he could see several figures – a woman and two young children – screaming as several teal-clad swordsmen struck them down, laughing all the while.

"_You've failed, Battousai. Your selfish desire to live has caused these innocents their lives," _ghost-Tanaka sneered from the shadows.

_No_, he wanted to deny it, but he didn't have a voice in this world. All he could do was watch, as Tanaka's family's ghosts called after him for his help.

"_Don't you care about us, Battousai?" _one of the ghost-children asked, pointing a mangled arm in his direction. _"I thought you said you wanted peace, but you're nothing but a selfish, bloodthirsty demon!"_

_No! I didn't want this!_

"_It's your fault we can't grow up in a peaceful world, Battousai. Even though your hands are responsible for the deaths of thousands, you still get to live on while we die."_

_Damn it, I didn't want it this way!_

"We're losing him!"

"Shit! Hold him down!"

"You can't do that here! It's not steady, and you're going to kill him for sure!"

"_It's your fault."_

The scent of blood was overwhelming, causing his body to react as bile threatened to choke him. He felt ill, and cold, and… _damn_ he hurt.

"_You should have been the one to die, you murderer."_

Everything was stained a deep red – his vision, the ground below him, and its warm sticky wetness was everywhere.

"We're almost there, damn it!"

"_Beloved…"_

At the final voice, he turned to see the one person he'd hoped would never have to see him like this. He fell to his knees in a pool of red, staring at his crimson-coated hands, flinching when he felt her dead-cold hands brush his shoulder.

"Quickly, get him inside! Call for Hirokatsu-sensei immediately!"

"_You promised me, beloved."_

_I… I can't do this anymore… _

"_Please, you have got to go back."_

_I can't because… because… _

"He's waking up!"

_Tomoe… _"I – I'm s-sorry…"

The other ghosts were gone now, and only the quiet and a thick blanket of pristine white snow lay between him and the somber woman standing several meters away from him. He could barely pick up the scent of white plums, but it was there, a strong reminder of what he'd promised her. She quirked a sad, knowing smile.

"_Go, beloved. Go back to where they still need you."_

_Thank you, Tomoe._

* * *

"He will live, for now. It was wise not to bring him all the way to Kyoto, though I'm afraid that the trip did not help him any." 

Katsura jumped slightly, startled by the deep voice of the wizened healer who had just entered the small chamber. Glancing up at the man, he breathed a sigh of relief, setting down the paper he had been reading intently. It had blood stains on it, the healer noted with a light frown. He wondered if the wounded boy in the room across the hall had brought it with him.

"That is good to hear, Hirokatsu-sensei," Katsura replied once he'd composed himself, though he still seemed tense to the doctor's trained eyes. Something else was bothering him at the moment, but he didn't seem to want to speak of it just yet. "Is Himura awake?"

"I'm afraid not," Hirokatsu said sadly. "He hasn't fully awoken since the fever began taking a heavy toll on his body. Once he rests a while, he should regain consciousness."

"Ah." He paused for a moment. "Might I go see him?"

Hirokatsu eyed the patriot warily for a moment. Part of his better judgment said that the badly wounded boy needed as few disturbances as possible in order to heal, and that any change in _ki_ might put him at ill ease even while unconscious. However, he knew that Katsura would not purposely disrupt Himura's uneasy sleep if he could help it, and that perhaps he just wanted a visual confirmation that the hitokiri was indeed alive, unlike the troubling news that had quickly come from Tanaka's estate. Katsura must have a great many questions for Battousai about the incident, since information on what exactly happened was sketchy at best.

"Yes, you may," Hirokatsu finally replied, "but let him rest. His coloring still looks pretty bad, but that's mostly a result of his body's reaction to the bullet that was in his belly for too long."

Katsura winced at the description, and Hirokatsu suddenly felt a little bad for stating the injury so bluntly. In truth, the bullet had all but poisoned the boy, though the blood loss alone could have cost him his life. He wasn't about to explain that to an already worried Choshu leader. Nevertheless he did have half a mind to ask what the _hell_ the man was thinking when he ordered that they transport the badly wounded young man in the first place. Despite the fact that the wounds alone could have killed him, the trip had nearly sealed Himura's fate at death's door.

It appeared that Katsura could read minds. "I… I shouldn't have ordered that he be brought here from Nara," he said quietly. "But I was worried that the Shinsengumi would track him there, and since he's wounded this badly he would have been defenseless."

Hirokatsu nodded slowly, understanding the man's concern as his own angry question had been answered. It was fortunate that Katsura had planned carefully and had sought out long ago many Ishin-friendly temples along the road between Nara and Kyoto, like the one they were currently occupying. It was a bit off the beaten path – this part of the trip had been what nearly killed Himura – but at least it was safe. The monks were incredibly helpful in helping him tend to Himura's wounds.

"No, you probably did do the right thing," he reassured Katsura. "Himura would have been in worse shape had they been able to get a hold of him." The healer stood and gestured toward the shoji. "Come, you said you wanted to see him?"

This time, it was Katsura's turn to nod as he stood, following Hirokatsu across the hall of the inn, to the room where the Battousai rested.

* * *

"_I – I'm sorry…"_

The words – and the weak voice uttering them – stung at the back of Katsura's mind as he stared down at the unconscious hitokiri. Himura had opened his eyes briefly once, when they were bringing him into the temple's back rooms, and had stared directly at Katsura while he said those words. Katsura wished he knew what the hitokiri had meant by them; the letter that he was told Himura had been clutching when he'd arrived at the Kuroyama in Nara bore very troubling information. Tanaka had betrayed them on so many different levels, but he hadn't seemed like he really had a choice, according to the letter's contents. Katsura felt upset that the businessman hadn't trusted him enough to take care of his family. Now, it was likely too late, even if they did send out a squad to conceal the other members of the Tanaka family. The Shinsengumi probably would have made a move to kill them as soon as Tanaka failed his apparent mission to incapacitate Battousai and take him into custody.

Well, they _had _effectively rendered the hitokiri useless, at least for the time being. Katsura watched in concern as Himura breathed unevenly, his skin a rather unhealthy pale, sickly grey. Hirokatsu hadn't been exaggerating when he said that the boy looked far worse for the wear. Though the covers were pulled to Himura's delicate chin, the Ishin leader didn't fail to notice the sheen of sweat on the boy's cheeks despite the damp cloth resting on his forehead, and the pained expression he wore even while asleep. He had been told, as well, that the covers hid a myriad of bandages stretching across the boy's chest and abdomen.

It was a miracle that Himura had made it alive, in this state. The journey had not helped in the endeavor to keep the boy living, though Katsura had a feeling that he really did protect Himura from the Shinsengumi by doing so. They surely knew of Battousai's injuries, and they wouldn't suspect that Battousai would be moved from Nara because of it. While the move had bought them some time, Katsura couldn't help but trust his gut instinct that the Shinsen dogs wouldn't give up on this blood trail so easily. He had to stay on his guard, both for his own sake and the sake of the hitokiri lying just shy of death's gaping maw before him.

A sharp hiss from the hitokiri drew his attention. He leaned over toward the young redhead, removing the damp cloth and placing a gentle hand on the boy's heated forehead. The fever – though not horribly high – was stubborn in its grip on the exhausted and badly injured hitokiri. Katsura dipped the cloth back into the small wooden tub of water that sat next to the boy's futon, wrung out the cloth, and replaced it on Himura's frowning forehead.

"Himura?" he whispered.

The boy didn't respond. After a moment of silence, Katsura sighed. The young man was in pain, he knew, but he was frustrated in that he was helpless to do anything about it. He wanted more information about what had happened at the complex – how Tanaka died, how Himura became so badly injured, if he recognized the Shinsen squad leader, what he meant when he'd apologized… So many questions would have to wait for when Himura woke. Considering his fever and his current state, Katsura knew he would have to be patient.

_Patience, patience. Worrying will only make things worse._

* * *

Matsuo's men were fidgety. Ever since the word of Shigure's immediate death and Takeshi's orders of seppuku upon bearing ill news of the operation, all those under the irate Shinsen captain were on edge. They would all be on Matsuo's sword's edge, vice-captain Suzuka Ren thought morosely, if he couldn't find a way to placate the captain, and soon. Matsuo had summoned him, which made him nervous after hearing word of his current state. He quietly entered Matsuo's chamber and bowed his head to the ground in reverence. 

"You wished to see me, Matsuo-sama?"

"Ah, Suzuka-san. You're just the person I wanted to see," Matsuo greeted cheerily. "Have a seat; I have many important matters I wish to discuss with you."

Suzuka normally would have immediately stated what was on his mind, but he could tell by the subtle tightness in the captain's tone that it would mean death if he dared cross any of the thin, invisible lines that had been set before him. He sat where Matsuo had indicated, waiting patiently – expressionlessly – for further instruction.

"Tanaka did not follow through, as you said he would," Matsuo said, clipping the ends of his words carefully despite the seemingly peaceful expression he wore.

Suzuka nodded slowly. "It appears that I had overestimated his abilities, or perhaps underestimated Battousai's," he admitted almost sheepishly, looking at the floor, almost expecting the inviting dagger to be placed before him.

"So it would seem," Matsuo replied tersely. "But you know that isn't the point. We let _both_ of our targets, one of which was reportedly wounded, get away. There is _no _excuse."

"I understand," the vice-captain stated evenly, though he cringed inwardly at what he knew was coming next. Even though he knew he was treading on already-dangerous ground, he continued, "Although I have a feeling that our failure might have had more to do with the fact that someone at the scene slipped away and informed Katsura. Battousai wasn't in any condition to travel that far alone, from the reports."

In that small instant of silence, Suzuka had a feeling he'd bought himself a few precious moments as his captain made no move. "I certainly hope you have more to say about that, Suzuka."

He did, thankfully. "We were able to… _persuade_ some of Nara's citizens to speak about any suspicious activity they might've seen. More than one told us of a red-haired young man who staggered about the outskirts of town as though drunk, and we did find enough blood to support the idea that a badly-wounded individual had walked through that area."

"Hm."

Well, he hadn't been asked to commit seppuku yet. He would wait for the question before he offered the last bit of information almost as a bargaining tool for his own life… and hopefully the captain would realize that he had more to say.

"And where did this red-haired individual end up?"

"None of them knew, but there were reports of a strange caravan leaving the city shortly after," he replied. "They told the city guards that they needed a pass to transport a sick boy out of the town, though most of the citizens and guards we questioned say that he wasn't sick, but rather badly injured."

"Where was this caravan heading?"

Suzuka took a deep breath. "North; the guards were sure of it."

In the oppressive silence that followed, Suzuka didn't dare breathe. He couldn't read his captain's expression, and it worried him slightly. Part of him was relieved that he'd made preparations in the likely case of his ordered suicide, but the other part of him fervently wished that Matsuo wouldn't be so hasty as to order his death. He had been loyal to the man for as long as they'd been enlisted in the Shinsengumi, hadn't he?

He nearly jumped when Matsuo spoke next. "They're likely headed back to Kyoto, or somewhere near it. If we want to convince Hijikata-sama that we are indeed capable of beginning our own branch of Shinsengumi in Nara, I don't want them getting their hands on Battousai before we do." With a sharp glance at Suzuka, he added, "Formulate a plan by nightfall to go after that caravan. We'll scour the route. Once you check it with me, put it into action. I will not be so kind to allow any further failure, do you understand me?"

Suzuka had to hide his sigh of relief. "Yes, Matsuo-sama. If you would excuse me."

Matsuo nodded, turning to a small wooden table sitting beside him as his vice-captain left almost too quickly. Suzuka could barely catch his breath once he was out of the captain's sight; he had to will his pounding heart to calm down as he began calculations in his mind.

_This will be a long night._

* * *

Kenshin wasn't sure what he was aware of first: the muffled voices that whispered above him, or the sharp pains that slowly made themselves known as the layers of unconsciousness slowly peeled back to reveal reality. A thick cloud of cotton gripped his thoughts, and he couldn't quite remember what had happened, and time had completely been distorted during his absence. Distinct words registered slowly as his consciousness fought its way through the fog, his weakness annoying him as he strained to use his other senses. The mist in his mind cleared some, allowing him to pick up another level of awareness – he was able to make out more than one voice, and they were speaking about… he couldn't tell quite yet. 

"Tatsumo…"

"You need to rest, Katsura-sama… I will watch over him while you take your leave," the first voice said in a whisper. Kenshin didn't immediately recognize it, but his mind told him it was familiar, and the owner would not present a threat. It told him that Katsura was there, at least for the moment.

Katsura seemed to hesitate. "Please wake me if he shows any signs of stirring," he said in an equally quiet voice. He did sound weary, but Kenshin could detect an underlying sense of worry in the man's tone. If only his fogged mind could figure out…

Another stab of pain in his gut viciously reminded him. Oh, that's right. He had been injured, the last he remembered… or was that a dream?

"I promise. Please get some sleep."

The Choshu leader sighed. "All right. If you will excuse me…"

"Please do."

A soft scraping – the shoji opening and closing – and then there was a brief moment of silence.

"I know you're listening," the first voice chided softly. "You can wake up now if you wish, though it won't be pleasant."

Pleasant. No, it already wasn't pleasant, not with the agony that stole the air from his lungs with every breath and threatened to banish him back into the bliss of darkness. He didn't want to go back just yet, not without some questions answered to put his disoriented mind at ease. But when he opened his mouth to ask, he was surprised to hear a pained moan emerge from his own lips instead.

"Yes, I know," the man replied with some pity, as if he understood the incoherent language of the injured. "Now that you've made your decision _despite my warning_, I will give you something to help lessen the pain a little."

When Kenshin tried to open his eyelids, he found the task rather difficult, as if his lids had been attached to heavy weights while he hadn't been aware enough to do anything about it. He was surprised to find that the room he found himself in was dimly lit, and warm. Or perhaps those were the blankets he finally noticed covering his thin frame. He noticed the bent-over figure of an older man fidgeting with a tray, and the gentle clinking of porcelain accompanied a trickle of liquid as he worked. With a tight smile, the man turned and presented a teacup full of something hot, which he placed carefully on the ground out of Kenshin's line of sight.

"Here, let me help you sit up… but it's going to hurt, so we're going slow," the man explained. "You're lucky to have slept for so long; your wounds have already started to heal properly."

Kenshin was afraid to test out his voice just yet, so he remained silent as the older man helped him move to a sitting position, a large, strong hand splayed at the center of Kenshin's back for support. And it did hurt, almost enough that it left him feeling weak by the time he was sitting upright. It was embarrassing for him to have to rely so much on outside help; he could hardly even hold the teacup without some aid. The tea was bitter, but it soothed the dryness that had caused him to mistrust his ability to speak.

"H-How long…" he began, but the older man shook his head and forced him to drink more tea first.

"Forgive my bad manners, lad. I should at least tell you what the hell's been going on lately, eh?" He laughed. "It's just such a relief to see you come to your senses again. My name is Hirokatsu Tatsumo; I am the resident healer. You're currently at a shrine just south of Kyoto, and you were unconscious for about… oh, I'd say four days now."

Kenshin started at the last sentence, nearly choking on a sip of tea as Hirokatsu took the cup from him and supported him until he could breathe properly again. The hitokiri groaned; coughing _hurt_, he decided morosely.

"Sorry, I should've waited until you finished the tea before I told you that," he apologized, helping Kenshin lay back down. "We were afraid you weren't going to wake up. Let me tell you, young man – you are one lucky sonuvabitch to have survived that kind of trip in your condition. You scared the shit out of the Kuroyama's doctor during that trip, though. He thought for sure you were going to die."

_This almost sounds like a rebuke,_ Kenshin silently noted with dry amusement.

"If the situation had been different, I never would have allowed them to move you here in the state you were in."

Kenshin grunted softly, but clearly the doctor wasn't finished scolding him just yet. He hoped that this would be over soon; his head was starting to feel uncomfortably light, and the room wasn't staying in focus.

"Although you've spent four days recuperating, I'm requiring another fortnight of bed rest. Your fever isn't quite diminished yet, though it's considerably better than it was. I'm still worried about an infection, so I'd like to keep an eye on that as well. After I'm sure that you're not going to die from secondary ailments, then – and _only then _– may you do limited exercise." At this, the healer shot him a sharp glance. "And I mean that. Don't push it, young man. You're to be on a regulated diet until I say so, as well. No use eating strong food on an injured stomach."

That order would be easy to follow – even the thought of food made Kenshin's stomach roil. Time to think of something else, he determined. Something other than food and the horrible throbbing in his side and gut. The doctor sighed, and quieted for a moment as he turned and wrung out a cloth that had been sitting in a bucket of water nearby. Folding it deftly, it soon found its way to Kenshin's forehead. It was cool; felt nice against the headache and uncomfortable pounding in his skull.

"And now that you've heard enough from me, you may go back to sleep," Hirokatsu chided softly, as though speaking to a child. "Rest for a while, and I'll be back to check on you when you wake up again."

Kenshin's eyelids began to close, and with a fleeting thought wondered if Katsura had been in to see him yet. _Katsura… Shit!_ His eyes flew open, and just as the doctor began to stand and leave, he reached out and snatched the hem of the man's hakama.

"Wait…" he croaked, and Hirokatsu looked back down at him with a startled expression. "K-Katsura… when…?"

"He's fine, boy. He was here earlier, but I told him to get rest. I'll let him know the next time you wake up," Hirokatsu replied with a nod. "I promise."

Kenshin exhaled with relief, the information calming the adrenalin rush. With that confirmation settled firmly into his mind, he allowed his eyes to close, and hardly noticed when the healer reached down and straightened the blankets around him.

* * *

_**.end chapter 3.**_

* * *


	4. 4 :: Lull

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license and translation. The setting and characters are used without permission, at no profit to the author of this fanwork._

_Warnings: graphic violence, language, and potentially disturbing themes throughout the story as a whole._

_Many thanks to my beta reader, Nekotsuki. _

* * *

**Chapter 4: Lull**

According to Suzuka's spies, there was no sign of Battousai in Kyoto. It had been six days, and the vice-captain began to wonder if perhaps they had miscalculated the direction the caravan was headed. Had it driven the wounded hitokiri back to Choshu? Or were they hiding somewhere along the route between Nara and Kyoto? Staring down at a crude map before him, he scowled. Matsuo was an impatient man, and he was running short on time before he too would join the ranks of the couriers who had already died – needlessly – in this venture.

It wasn't as if he disagreed with Matsuo on the basic principle. The Ishin hitokiri was a dangerous enemy, and it would be a fatal mistake to ignore the threat he posed. However, Suzuka did not agree with Matsuo's desire to pursue Battousai without aid from main Shinsengumi headquarters, nor did he agree with the idea to capture rather than eliminate him. It was dishonorable, inefficient, and suicidal. He had tried to tell Matsuo this much, but the man was too wrapped up in his grand plans to bother listening… and Suzuka had been too afraid of the captain's temper to push the issue any further than he already had. And so the manhunt continued, so far without any luck.

As if to dampen his mood further, the incessant rain had lasted more than long enough, he decided, and it was delaying the search. They had finally finished scouring every outpost, inn, and village from Nara to Kyoto, so far without any luck. After much debate, Suzuka had finally relented and gave his own subordinates permission to start searching the many shrines and temples that lay between the two cities; perhaps Battousai had taken refuge at one of those. Although most regional shrines could be counted out – the lay-priests would never agree to handle the blood from Battousai's injuries – Suzuka had a strong suspicion that the kokugaku-affiliated shrines would be more than happy to help any stray Ishin warriors. It had been difficult to deal with the uprising anti-bakufu kokugaku faction. Even if they didn't treat the wounds themselves, as blood pollution was still an issue, Suzuka was sure that Battousai's allies had had ample time to come to his aid.

At this stage, Suzuka almost wished a body would turn up instead. It would save him – and the bakufu, for that matter – an immeasurable amount of trouble. Maybe it would throw water on Matsuo's blazing ambition, or maybe nothing would. If Hijikata were to ever find out about this venture… they would both be dead.

With a sigh, he looked outside and fervently wished one of his spies would return soon bearing good news. He needed some, along with a flask of nice, hot sake.

* * *

Kenshin had rarely had the opportunity to enjoy rain, as he did now. Precipitation always seemed to set off his sense of balance, muddling his awareness during battle. But at rest, he found it to be rather relaxing, if not pleasant. It helped him meditate, which in turn whittled away idle hours as he lay upon the futon, healing under Hirokatsu's order of bed rest. He hated being injured, even though he did appreciate the small respite from the harshness of war. 

He still had trouble shaking the nagging feeling that they weren't safe, however, despite Katsura's reassurances that the priests were loyal. With his barest knowledge of folk religious teachings, by all rights he should have never been brought there. One, he was injured, and he was pretty sure they'd violated just about every blood pollution law the priests were bound to, and two… he was a known murderer. The thought that these priests would just willingly ignore these facts were difficult for him to swallow, putting him on edge, even if he was in too much pain to do anything about it.

It had been fairly easy, at first, to deal with the pain. He had slept through much of the first day after he'd awoken initially at the shrine, but now that his body refused to let him sleep, the constant ache and throbbing became much more bothersome. Thus, the rain brought a welcome sense of peace in which he could meditate.

Katsura had been in to see him several times since he'd awakened three days earlier. Kenshin was constantly amazed that the man still took the time to check on his unworthy being, though he should expect it from the man who ordered him to take the lives of so many. He had wanted to ask Katsura about Tanaka's family, and if he had done anything to see if they were alright. He had a gnawing, guilty feeling that they'd been destroyed because of Tanaka's failure to kill him, but he couldn't be sure. His ghosts had a way of playing horrible tricks on his mind in a very brutal form of revenge.

He deserved at least that much, he supposed.

But before his mind could continue down that path, a sudden presence near the shoji pulled his mind out of the hazy meditative state he'd been in for some time. The strong _ki_ was likely Hirokatsu's; the man had to have been a swordsman in his day, to have that kind of strongly self-assured aura that faintly reminded him of his shishou's _ki_. With a soft scraping sound, the shoji slid open and dim light filtered in, silhouetting Hirokatsu's large frame.

"Himura-san?" the healer's familiar voice whispered into the room. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," Kenshin replied. "You may come in."

Hirokatsu entered the room, carrying the familiar tray of herbal remedies and linen strips, followed by a priest holding the usual wooden bucket of hot water. The healer deftly lit a lamp after he'd set the tray down. Dim light spread across the room from the lamp, illuminating the healer's wizened face and casting shadows along the shoji and ceiling.

"How are you feeling?" Hirokatsu asked, taking the bucket from the priest and dismissing him with a thank-you and a nod.

"Restless," Kenshin replied honestly, grimacing as Hirokatsu helped him sit upright.

Hirokatsu hummed in acknowledgement, helping Kenshin slide the simple yukata from his shoulders to expose a myriad of linen bandages swathing the hitokiri's middle and upper right arm. "And physically?"

Kenshin hesitated for the barest moment before he replied, "Uncomfortable."

"As expected, though I must say that I'm impressed you're doing this well so soon," Hirokatsu replied as he gently unwound the bandages. "You were pretty badly injured."

The bandages fell away from Kenshin's abdomen to reveal a red, puckered hole in the flesh near his bellybutton, and a slightly longer wound in his left side. Both had been neatly stitched with black thread. Hirokatsu leaned in closer and began pressing around the stab wound with his fingertips. Kenshin tensed, gritting his teeth as the healer examined the wound.

"It's not infected, at least," Hirokatsu noted, casting a pitying glance up at the boy. "But it will take some time to heal – it was pretty deep. Is your abdomen still hurting? I noticed you haven't been eating much still, even with a regulated diet."

"It's a little sore," Kenshin replied honestly. "And I'm just not that hungry."

"Hm." The healer said nothing for a few moments as he continued to press on the young man's stomach. Kenshin winced every so often when the healer's hands pressed on a sore spot, but he remained quiet. "You need to eat more – you're too small, can't afford to lose weight. You need to gain back what you've lost in blood, too, boy."

Kenshin didn't reply as the doctor continued his examination, but he couldn't help but hate the fact that he felt so weak and in pain. It left him feeling vulnerable, and with Katsura there, his overwhelming need to protect his leader was battling with his sense of inability. And that hurt more than the wounds did, in the end.

"These are healing well, but to be on the safe side, I want you to continue to take it easy," Hirokatsu said after another few moments. Deftly selecting a shallow black jar from his tray, he removed the lid and coated his fingers with the salve inside. Kenshin wrinkled his nose at the smell, and the doctor chuckled lightly as he began gently massaging the salve onto the healing injuries. "I know, smells awful, but I swear it works like a charm."

After Hirokatsu finished applying salve and rewrapping bandages, he calmly put his supplies back in their proper places on the tray.

"There you go. Let me know if you're uncomfortable, and I'll see what I can do. For now, keep resting, and get some food in that body of yours," Hirokatsu ordered, wiping off the excess salve on his hands with a cloth. "And I mean it about resting. No use in stressing out your body unnecessarily, so take this opportunity to let it heal."

Kenshin nodded politely with a small smile, though despite the healer's assurances, he still had a spine-tingling feeling that he was too vulnerable, and he hated it. If anything, he had been trained to trust his instincts more than anything else; he wasn't going to let a few small injuries get in the way of his duty to protect Katsura while they were on the same premises. Shifting to watch the doctor leave, he winced as the movement tugged on his healing wounds. So maybe they weren't so small, but the fact remained that something unpleasant was likely coming.

He only hoped he would be up to dealing with it when the time came.

* * *

"Katsura-sama, may I have a few words with you?" 

Katsura turned away from the open door, where he had been calmly watching the rain falling in the courtyard outside the room he currently occupied. Akira, one of the upper-level shrine priests, peered around the half-open shoji expectantly. Nodding, Katsura stood and knelt at the center of the room over a low food tray that held a teapot and two cups.

"Come in," Katsura said. "I wanted to thank you anyway."

Akira entered solemnly and knelt across from Katsura, and thanked him when the Ishin leader offered tea.

"There's no need to thank us," Akira said after he took a hesitant sip. "After all, you're doing the hard work – taking on the bakufu. You might not like what I have to say, though." At this, Katsura looked sharply at the priest, who sighed.

"Bad news?"

"I'm afraid so," Akira replied. "A messenger from one of our affiliate shrines mentioned that there have been some troubling events. The Shinsengumi waylaid one of their head priests and… _questioned_ him. About a renegade assassin on the loose in this area, the messenger said."

Katsura frowned. Himura. They were still after Himura. "We should probably leave before we involve you as well."

"I would agree, but it looks like Himura-san still isn't quite on his feet yet," Akira noted solemnly. When Katsura glared down into his teacup, the priest added, "You are permitted to stay here as long as you need – I would never be the one to turn you out. We will delay them as long as we can, and hope that we're among the last of the places they look."

After a moment of silence, Katsura said, "I don't want to take any chances. We'll leave as soon as Hirokatsu-sensei says we are able to move Himura without causing him further harm."

"There may not be enough time for that, but we'll do our best," Akira replied. "If we have to bring out our old, rusty samurai swords to do so, then so be it."

Katsura looked pained for a moment, but nodded regardless. "Thank you for all your help. I don't know what we would have done if—"

Akira held up a hand, cutting him off. "No need to offer us your thanks. You and your men are the ones bearing the brunt of this whole mess, not us. This is the least we can do. Now if you will excuse me."

Katsura bowed his head solemnly, watching the priest as he bowed, then stood and left the small tatami room. With a small sigh, he turned his attention back to the rain, this time wondering how much time they had before they were forced to move along. For Himura's sake, he hoped it would be a much longer while yet, though he had a rather ill feeling that their troubles were only just beginning.

* * *

Suzuka squeezed his eyes shut, massaging his lids with his fingers with the hope of chasing away the weary lines he was sure he felt forming there. It had been two days and _still_ no word, up until that morning. The courier had brought in some more pleasant news than nothing, but they still seemed to have a long ways to go before they could pinpoint Battousai's whereabouts. And the longer they waited the better of a chance Battousai and his associates had to heal and escape. 

The news had brought reports of four suspicious shrines and temples in the region that seemed to have good connections with Katsura. Two of them were of the upstart kokugaku sect, which had openly been giving their support to the Ishin Shishi, drawn by the _sonno joi_ motto that the rebels preached. Revere the emperor, and expel the Barbarians, including anything that wasn't indigenous to Japan. Like Buddhism.

Odd that they hadn't included the current writing system in their list of grievances, Suzuka noted wryly as he read over his spies' coded notes. That was Chinese too, after all. But that was a separate issue; the kokugaku sect really hadn't done much other than speak out against the Bakufu, and though that in itself was troubling, the Buddhists comprised more of the Tokugawa han's population than they did. If they did house the errant hitokiri, it would be one of the more outspoken actions that they'd performed. The fact that they had refused to aid the spies' investigation was expected, based on their current feelings towards anything tied to the Bakufu.

Thus, he was unable to eliminate them from the list just yet. The other two shrines were smaller and further into the woods, which would also make perfect hiding places. That, and they too had been unwilling to cooperate with the spies. Unlike the kokugaku, they hadn't had any other reason to act out against the Bakufu that he could think of. They should probably force entry with all four shrines, starting with the two non-kokugaku shrines. To him, they were more likely to house something suspicious.

He would have to relate his plans to Matsuo, however much he'd rather not. Matsuo would likely tell him to raid all four at once, burning them all to the ground. He'd rather not anger the gods any further and just raid quietly. For all he knew, Battousai might not even be in a shrine. They still hadn't confirmed that he had actually lived through the whole ordeal yet.

Much to his chagrin, the guard at his door announced Matsuo's arrival. Suzuka sighed; so his plans were going to have to be modified, now that Matsuo was here to find out about them. He nodded at the guard, who turned and spoke quietly into the hall. Matsuo appeared at the door shortly after, a scowl etched into his bearded face.

"Anything?" he demanded.

Suzuka nodded briefly. "My courier brought reports from the spies about a half hour ago. We've narrowed it down to four potential shrines, if that is indeed where Battousai has chosen to hide himself." Matsuo settled down across from Suzuka, looking intently at the spies' reports as he listened. Suzuka shifted nervously. "These are the four shrines that refused the spies entry. Two of them are kokugaku-affiliated shrines, and the other two are to village local gods."

"It's not this one," Matsuo pointed suddenly to one of the two non-kokugaku shrines on the map. "They've got a policy against violence in general. Other Shinsengumi members have had dealings with them before, and I've also heard that they're none too fond of the Ishin either."

Well, that did help narrow it down some, Suzuka noted with a small nod of approval. "I was thinking we could infiltrate this one first, then. The kokugaku just don't like us; this shrine's priests really have no other reason to be against us unless they are hiding something."

"That might be the case, but the kokugaku sect would also be more willing to hide Battousai if he's aiding the Ishin cause," Matsuo replied. "We need to take all three down. Burn them to the ground."

"But sir, only one place can be hiding Battousai—"

"And all three have denied Shinsengumi spies access. They're in defiance of the law, and must be punished regardless. We're going to show the others what it means to stand up to us," Matsuo snapped back. "Look, Suzuka. I know you don't want to have unnecessary bloodshed, but this is the only way we're going to prove to Kyoto that we're capable of handling things down here."

Suzuka frowned, but he knew that any arguing with the captain would only get him into further trouble. "I understand, but our resources are only going to allow us to strike one at a time, especially if they have Battousai with them. We'll need to be careful how we proceed here."

"Point taken," Matsuo said easily. "That means we'll just have to be quick. Get the squad ready; we're going to leave as soon as the rain lets up."

With that, Matsuo stood, shot Suzuka a warning look – no room for argument – and then excused himself. Suzuka sighed once he was out of the room. This was going to take some serious thought, and he didn't have much time. Never did, in the first place.

* * *

Hirokatsu left the room a little uplifted, as the boy seemed to be doing far better than he'd anticipated. The after-effects of the lead poisoning were a little troubling, but otherwise the wounds looked like they were healing. Himura was one of the better patients he'd had in a long while; the boy was obedient to his instructions – except his request that Himura eat more – rarely complained, and even offered to help dress his own injuries on occasion. Though a bit on the quiet side, Himura was rather polite, and this surprised the healer. He'd expected the hitokiri to be at least a little more… hard-edged and cold, he supposed. 

As he rounded the corner, he had been too caught up in his own thoughts and nearly missed the aura of the Choshu clan's commander. They nearly collided, and both seemed to be surprised to see the other.

"Katsura-sama," Hirokatsu greeted, bowing his head lightly, taking note with some worry the concerned frown spread across Katsura's forehead. "I'm sorry; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"Neither was I, Tatsumo," Katsura replied. "I was looking for you anyway. Do you have a moment?"

"I do," Hirokatsu replied.

Katsura looked around for a moment, then motioned for the healer to follow him. Padding quietly around the shrine, they soon found themselves in the room that had become Katsura's quarters during their stay there. Katsura quickly slid the shoji closed behind Hirokatsu, and the two of them knelt across from each other at the center of the room.

"How is he?" Katsura asked, keeping his voice low.

As Hirokatsu had expected, Katsura was still worried about Himura's condition. With a reassuring nod, he replied, "Himura is on the mend – further along than most would be in that situation. But he still needs a lot of rest. He's still getting over being sick from the leftover poisoning from the bullet, and his wounds still seem to be rather tender, even if they aren't infected. I want him to take some time off."

Katsura bit his lip pensively as Hirokatsu relayed the details of the boy's current state of health, and it caused the older healer to frown. Something else was the matter, then, and it was making Katsura nervous to hear that Himura wasn't near being fully healed yet.

"That's good news," Katsura said, but Hirokatsu saw past the half-truth. Good news that Himura wasn't going to die, and then there was the "_but_."

"Is something wrong?" Hirokatsu finally asked. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

Katsura sighed. "I've been receiving troubling news from the monks at this shrine – that the Shinsengumi are looking for Himura. They've already sent spies here once, but they were turned away, as is shrine policy here. I'm afraid that we're running out of time to stay here; the longer we linger, the more in danger we all are."

"You wanted to know if Himura's well enough to travel – flee – if we have to."

It wasn't a question. Katsura knew it, and nodded uncertainly. "I'm sorry, Tatsumo. I didn't want to have to push him before he's ready, but…" He trailed off, biting his lip once more in worry. "We can't afford to lose him, not like that."

Hirokatsu nodded in understanding. He, too, had had the feeling that their stay would be cut short, and that they would have to push Himura sooner than he would have liked. He knew Himura would never complain about it; if Katsura ordered it, the boy would comply immediately without a word.

"Then you'd best get moving before they arrive," Hirokatsu replied. "Himura's barely going to be able to run, but he'll have a better chance at that than he will fighting."

Katsura nodded. "We're planning to leave tonight, under the cover of the rain, if possible. Can you… can you give something to Himura to help him make it through the escape?"

Hesitating a moment, Hirokatsu sighed before he said, "I do have a special herbal mixture, but it's not safe in his condition. It'll dull the pain and keep him moving long enough for you to make it away, but the after-effects aren't so… _healthy_, I'd say. It will be a gamble, especially since his stomach still has not fully healed."

Katsura shot him a determined look. "As long as he gets to safety alive, we can deal with that later. It'd be a far cry better than dealing with a corpse."

The man had a point, but it didn't make Hirokatsu any less worried about this plan of action. "Let me speak with him about it first, and let him know what he's getting himself into. I think it should be up to him."

For a moment, Katsura seemed to consider the idea before he nodded slowly. "Alright, then. I will speak with him about it, and you can fill him in on the details of this herbal concoction, as I know nothing about it. Since we don't have much time…"

"I know. I'll get it ready now," Hirokatsu replied, standing. "Be sure to give the kid a choice to refuse, Katsura-sama. He might have another plan up his own sleeves that we don't know about."

Katsura nodded again in acknowledgement. "Agreed."

"If you'll excuse me."

Hirokatsu quickly left the room to gather the necessary herbs from his medicine case, but he still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it was a bad idea. However, under the circumstances, they really didn't have many other options.

* * *

_**.end chapter 4.**_

* * *

_I was able to visit both Kyoto and Nara in the process of writing this chapter. Talk about an awesome experience!  
_


	5. 5 :: Force

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license and translation. The setting and characters are used without permission, at no profit to the author of this fanwork._

_Warnings: graphic violence, language, and potentially disturbing themes throughout the story as a whole. **This chapter is one of those chapters. **We've got some gory action this time around._

_Many thanks to my beta reader, Nekotsuki. I'd also like to thank those who chipped in over at LJ: __Warg, xZig-zagx, Hitokiri Taijiya, gure, Calger, and Khrysalis. I don't know if I'd have continued this rewrite without you guys.__   
_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Force**

Himura was far from recovered.

Katsura knew this, and could tell easily from the pained, pinched expression around the hitokiri's intense – but glassy – eyes. He could tell from the stiff manner in which the boy held himself, and the slight twitching of facial muscles when he moved to sit. Himura was pale and shaky, hunched and thin; he had to be in a great deal more pain than he was willing to show. While Katsura admired the brave show he was putting on for his leader's sake, the move only twisted the white hot knife of guilt further into his gut for the request he was about to ask of the wounded young man.

"The Shinsengumi are closing in," Katsura said quietly once he saw that Himura was settled with a small, painted clayware mug of steaming Japanese tea clasped in his quivering, pale hands. "They've been asking around other shrines in the vicinity after you. It won't be long until they come across this one."

"We're going to have to leave," Himura said suddenly, stoically, "and you want to ask me if I'm able to do so."

Though the answer startled him, Katsura nodded slowly. He hadn't brought a fool into the task of hitokiri, but that too also saddened him. This boy was willing to sacrifice _anything _for him, and once again he shamefully took advantage of Himura's willingness to do whatever it took to achieve a peaceful end. Giving Himura an expectant look, he wondered if he was asking too much, too soon when the hitokiri hesitated. If he had to think about it…

"I might," Himura replied after a moment's pause. "How soon do we have to leave?"

"As quickly as we possibly can. I don't want to take any chances of them coming back here with more hostile intentions than they've been displaying so far, and we're only putting this shrine in danger the longer we stay here."

This time, Himura nodded, but he still looked a little upset. He was hiding something, and Katsura knew that now was the time to give him the option.

"Realistically, I know you're not going to be at full speed, Himura." Katsura bit his lip when the boy looked down into his hands with a frown. "But Hirokatsu-sensei told me that he has something that might be able to alleviate that problem long enough for us to get away." And before he could ask, he hesitated on the word '_but_'.

Himura caught him with a sharp glance, as if he'd actually heard the unspoken word. "There are side effects."

Katsura sighed. "Yes, unfortunately. Hirokatsu can explain them to you; I don't know the details. But he was hesitant to give you this treatment in the first place, so I will be honest – they're likely not good."

For a moment, Himura seemed to turn the information over in his mind before he said determinedly, "I'll do it."

The guilt intensified, almost making Katsura feel sick with the worry it was causing. Himura was going through with it for the sake of the cause, regardless of his own sake, with little hesitation or thought to the contrary. And that was entirely Katsura's fault. He barely managed to get out his next words evenly, but he did.

"I'll go fetch Hirokatsu-sensei."

* * *

The heat of the fires couldn't warm the chill that had sunk into Suzuka's skin as he watched the flames lick at what was left of the wooden frame of the shrine. In a soldier's life, he knew that one must face the choice between one's duties to one's leaders versus the rights of others to live. These people had done nothing wrong by the Shinsengumi, other than the fact that they had simply asked for the spies to not intrude upon their daily lives. Such a simple request at such a heavy price. There had been no sign that the Ishin rebels – or Battousai, for that matter – had ever set foot on the premises. All in all it was a grievous mistake, but one that Matsuo certainly had plenty of excuses to cover it with. Not that such a reassurance made it any easier for Suzuka to square with his conscience – something about killing holy men made him feel especially dirtied – but that was out of his hands now that the shrine had been burned to the ground and the priests turned out or killed, as he'd been ordered to do. 

None of Matsuo's excuses, however, could ever allow him to forget the screams of the priests as they were harshly questioned and then slaughtered, or of the stench of burning flesh and wood, or the disgusted hisses the fire spat back at him every time rain found its way through the thick tree cover.

Suzuka tugged on the reins of his horse and turned it down the path back to the main road. They had one more stop to make on this patrol, and now that they'd had a miss on one of the shrines, the one holding Battousai – should it even exist – would receive news of this one's destruction quickly. He had no time to sit and dwell upon it. Signaling to his men on the patrol, he urged his horse to a gallop, hoping to catch up to the spies who were scouting out the next shrine before they went to raze it, even though he knew that the kokugaku faction really would only be angrier with the Bakufu for allowing their 'watchdogs' to create this mess in the first place. The Bakufu would be more than upset. Hell, even _Hijikata _would be infuriated, and might even send one of his prized captains down to clean up the mess Matsuo had made. Matsuo wasn't much of a politician, really. He just wanted power and fame, and would do anything to get both.

Reaching up to wipe away the rainwater from his eyes, Suzuka sighed. He almost wished he hadn't set Matsuo after the religious institutions, regardless of the fact that he'd likely saved his own life in doing so. He wasn't even sure Battousai was alive, or if he was at one of these shrines or temples in the first place. Part of him wanted to tell his men to halt, call it quits, and head back to headquarters in Nara. But the other part of him knew that Matsuo would have him killed – by Matsuo's sword, or his own – if he didn't produce results, and soon.

_Such a goddamned fucking mess._

They were about halfway to the next kokugaku shrine when he saw the riders on the road ahead. Raising one hand up to shield his eyes enough for him to squint into the distance, he realized the two horses were riding towards the squadron, and fast. Might be the spies, half of him hoped. And maybe they would be bringing good news.

The first rider came close enough for Suzuka to confirm the rider as indeed one of his. He breathed deeply in relief, and waited patiently for the man to catch his breath and report.

"Suzuka-fukutaichou." The spy nodded in greeting, a gesture that Suzuka returned.

"The shrine?"

"There's activity going on there, and the head count is a great deal larger than the number of priests we know of at that shrine."

"They could be recruiting and training new priests," Suzuka suggested.

"Possibly, but not entirely likely. The others were not wearing holy garb of any kind. They looked either like civilians, or samurai. I couldn't tell from my position. It wasn't a festival; nobody was dressed for the occasion."

Suzuka tried not to suck in a harsh breath. There was a good chance that this was their target, if the Ishin were indeed in the middle of nowhere in a kokugaku shrine. Nobody else would be flocking to the shrine in that number if it was simply a revival, especially not in this nasty weather. At any rate, they had to hurry if they wanted the element of surprise, and even so he doubted to gain even that edge. If there was that much activity, then the Ishin refugees might be trying to flee.

"Thank you," Suzuka said, nodding dismissively. The spy nodded back, and rode past the squadron, possibly going to pass the news on to Matsuo.

For now, however, it was time to hunt a demon. If that were even possible.

* * *

If looks could kill, Hirokatsu was sure Katsura would be dead several times over by now. He _knew_ the man would somehow coerce Kenshin into taking the cocktail. He knew it, and yet he knew it was probably the best course of action, regardless of how much he hated to admit it. If they were going to get away alive, they would need Kenshin alert enough to handle at least himself. As it was, the boy's badly shaking hands were indication enough for him that this was probably the _worst_ possible time that the Shinsengumi could have picked to become a nuisance. Well, maybe not _the_ worst possible time – a week ago would've been worse – but the timing was still rather infuriating. 

And so he crushed dried herbs into a bowl angrily, throwing in a pinch of this and that to desperately try to help Himura's condition in any way he could. He hated creating this cocktail; while he didn't mind using the separate herbs for easing discomfort, this particular mixture – especially at such a high dosage he was making – left rather unpleasant after-effects once it wore off. Himura would be horribly sick afterwards, especially since the bullet wound had caused some damage to his stomach and hadn't quite healed yet. He could feel the boy's cold, intimidating gaze leveled at him as he worked, as if he sensed what the healer was thinking and was showing his determination to go through with it anyway. Stubborn as hell, that kid, but even he felt the pressure of the oncoming Shinsengumi. With a frustrated sigh, Hirokatsu pulled the last ingredient for the mixture from his medicine box – shirane-senkyu to stave off the pain and keep him awake – and tossed in three times the usual recommended dosage. A gamble, but it would have to work. Next, he pulled out a small packet of yunnan bai yao powder he'd managed to import from northern China to use on Kenshin's wounds when he rebandaged them.

"Pass me the hot water, would you, Katsura-sama?" the healer said curtly. Katsura, clearly cowed by the irritated healer, handed him the teapot as quickly as he could without spilling it on himself or Hirokatsu. Hirokatsu then poured the water over the crushed herbs, handed the glass to Kenshin. "Drink this, and then chew on this," he handed him a tochiba ginseng root, "and then I'll see what I can do with your dressings."

Kenshin nodded, quietly complying but scrunching his nose as he gagged on the bittersweet tea. The ginseng would likely be a welcome flavor after having to drink such a quickly-made brew.

"You'll feel pretty good here for a while, but just… don't overdo it," Hirokatsu warned somberly. "You won't be feeling so great once your body tries to deal with the excess herbs, and then you'll be in twice the pain if your injuries are agitated on top of that. I want you to sleep as soon as it's safe to do so."

It was the hesitation that almost made Hirokatsu stop this entire mess. Himura was entirely too calm about this ordeal, even if he was a rather even-keeled young man. All this information about what he was taking… he was taking it in stride. He hadn't even asked what was in the tea. Himura had something planned, the little twit. But before Hirokatsu could call him on it, the boy nodded.

"I understand." And the conversation was over.

Hirokatsu sighed almost angrily as Himura began to struggle his way out of the sleeves of the yukata he wore, and once again the healer took over the long task of unwinding the lengths of linen bandages swathing the boy's middle. The wounds were well on their way to healing, as long as they weren't disturbed. Hirokatsu wasn't going to take any chances. He poured a little of the yunnan bai yao powder over the healing wounds – a precautionary measure, mostly, as the wounds were no longer bleeding – and pressed the powder into the skin. Himura hissed quietly at the pressure, but otherwise didn't indicate that he was affected by it. The bandages were wound tighter than usual by the time the healer had finished, and Himura seemed to act as though this was something he did everyday as he slid on the sleeves of his freshly-washed navy gi and pulled on the rest of his gear.

And the worst part was that Katsura would accept this gesture merely at face value.

A frantic knock at the door interrupted the sudden impulse Hirokatsu had to dress down Katsura, and a worried-looking priest burst into the room after a quick acknowledgement from Katsura. "Katsura-sama, you're going to have to leave right now," the monk said quickly, keeping his voice low. "The Shinsengumi burned down our brother shrine, and they're headed this way next by all reports. I think they're most likely looking for you."

Katsura frowned at the news as he scrambled to his feet. "How long do we have?"

"A few hours, at the most. Likely less than that; it's hard to say."

Hirokatsu kept the curse under his breath, but he could tell both Himura and Katsura felt the same way he did. Katsura gave some instructions to the monk – Akira, Hirokatsu was sure he heard – before he thanked and dismissed him in one smooth sentence. When the priest left, Himura slowly – stiffly – stood as well, suddenly reaching down and grabbing for air. Hirokatsu tried not to flinch; he knew what the boy was looking for.

"Where are my swords?" Himura suddenly asked, turning to Katsura. Katsura shot a look at Hirokatsu first. Hirokatsu's eyes narrowed at the man as Himura turned his glassy gaze on him next. The display itself wasn't intimidating enough to be convincing, but his next words, spoken softly, were more than substantial. "I'm going to need them in case we don't get out in time."

"They're in my chambers," Katsura replied. "We'll grab them on our way out."

They would, too. Just as they would hurry along just quickly enough that Hirokatsu didn't have time to point out that Himura was stumbling behind them, and that he was swaying on his feet. Just quickly enough to not notice when Himura's eyes took on a resigned sort of determination as they started to leave the shrine. And just not quickly enough to avoid the one thing that Hirokatsu knew would cause Himura to disobey his orders.

* * *

Matsuo's horse couldn't carry him fast enough to suit him. As soon as the news from Suzuka's personal courier had arrived about the second kokugaku shrine showing more promise, he hesitated mere seconds before he turned his horse away from the burning remains of the final shrine that had dared to lie to the Shinsengumi and pushed it into a brisk gallop. When he was reassured that he had company on the trail, he urged the horse into a frenzied sprint. His companions kept up with him, as he'd anticipated. He had paid a handsome sum for their help, after all. Ninja mercenaries didn't come cheap, nor were they easy to find. Matsuo wasn't about to take chances with the stakes running so high in this chase. Battousai was not to be underestimated, even while wounded; he'd learned that lesson the hard way. 

Matsuo peered into the dark, hoping to catch some sign of the second kokugaku shrine's simple tiled roof in the distance. It wasn't far; at their current pace, they should be there in under half an hour. The leader of the small ninja crew he'd hired brought his horse alongside Matsuo's, and in a wordless exchange, the ninja gave a curt nod. They were going to be heading into battle soon.

With a shudder, Matsuo was hardly able to keep a wide grin from spreading across his face. His prey was close by, and he could practically smell the blood already. It was making him giddy with all the visions of power it conjured in his mind. But he knew that he would have to be patient, otherwise the elusive hitokiri would slip through his fingers, or would end up dead. A dead hitokiri would do him no good at this point.

Dead priests would, perhaps, but not dead bait.

He felt the ninja leader's eyes boring into the back of his skull, but at this point he didn't care. Ninja were loyal to the purse, and only the purse; no matter how much they might approve or disapprove of this hunt, and no matter how much of a personal stake they had in the situation, they wouldn't turn on him unless someone else paid them more to do so. But at the same time, he had a feeling that perhaps they weren't as adverse to the current plan as he'd initially thought. Just as long as they didn't kill Battousai, he honestly couldn't care less what they did to subdue the demon.

With the kokugaku shrine now firmly in site down the path, Matsuo didn't restrain the grin this time. It was time to hunt the demon down.

* * *

By the time Kenshin had his swords shoved familiarly into his hastily-tied obi, the world no longer spun dangerously with each step; Kenshin took this as the first sign that Hirokatsu's cocktail was taking effect. The second was the unnatural adrenaline rush that made his ears ring and brought the world around him into almost too sharp of a focus. Though it was a far cry better than staggering sluggishly behind Katsura and Hirokatsu, he had a bad feeling that he was only going to feel worse once the medicine wore off. 

But if his over-acute senses were reliable at all, he knew he honestly hadn't had any other choice. Someone was coming – rather, several someones. Danger pricked at his nerves, sending a nasty chill down his spine. The approaching group wasn't friendly – Shinsengumi-affiliated, likely – but at the same time they didn't seem to have the same blatantly hostile _ki_ as most of the Shinsen samurai emanated. He got a sense that whoever was chasing them was far calmer and more collected than most samurai were on the hunt, and it worried him.

Kenshin nearly sighed as Katsura signaled to the small band of Ishin that had accompanied to the shrine. It had taken them far too long to get ready to leave; the rain was no longer pouring down in torrents as it had been earlier, and it was now nightfall. They would have to travel all night in order to get to somewhere safe. And for all Kenshin knew, they might be on the run for an extended amount of time. Hirokatsu seemed agitated as well, and for a moment Kenshin wondered if he too had sensed the incoming menace and the intense pressure of the time they simply didn't have.

One thing was for certain: the longer they had to run, the less likely they would come out alive.

They were not nearly far enough down the back trails out of the shrine's grounds when he picked up the sound of shouting. They had merely a half hour's head start; even that would rapidly be cut down due to Katsura's decision to slow them down because of his growing concern over Kenshin's condition. He was slowing them down, and they really wouldn't escape in time at this painfully sluggish rate. They were walking; they needed to be running.

And then the startling, gut-wrenching realization that the priests were _dead_ hit him head-on; he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. The Shinsengumi had to know that they'd been there, and that the shrine had been covering for them this entire time. They had been looking for an excuse to go after the kokugaku faction for a long time, and now they had it. It was his fault – he was the one who had screwed up with Tanaka, and had caused them all to land in this mess in the first place.

_Tanaka.__Oh, god._ Tanaka's family – they were in trouble too, if they hadn't already been slaughtered. He wondered briefly if Katsura had received the letter he'd brought with him, and assumed it was the case when he recalled that it wasn't tucked into the sleeve of his uniform when he'd put it back on over the bandages. But now wasn't the time to be dwelling on the Tanaka family; if Katsura was caught, _nobody _would be able to help them.

So much depended on Katsura's survival at this point – much more than the Tanaka family, or even the small crew that currently traveled with them. The Choshu clan would fall to pieces with Katsura gone and nobody to take his place. And he was not about to let that happen.

Before he could put his own plan into action, Katsura shot a look over his shoulder and caught his gaze. Steeling his expression, Kenshin nodded back at him to reassure the man that he was alright, hoping that he'd get the hint that they were going too slowly. Katsura's eyes suddenly fixed on the distance behind the group, and as the older man's forehead wrinkled in concern, Kenshin realized that by now he must have heard the commotion that was likely back at the shrine. Kenshin didn't miss the look that Katsura shot Hirokatsu just before the healer frowned and gave Kenshin a scrutinizing glance.

Katsura was verifying if Kenshin would be able to handle a faster pace. Kenshin nodded at Hirokatsu, who nodded at Katsura when Katsura chanced another look behind him. It was like a game, almost, and it was laughable. But in the moment that Hirokatsu took to nod at Katsura and the short space in which Katsura sped up to an almost-jog, Kenshin allowed himself to fall just behind and a little to the side of Hirokatsu. The older man craned his neck slightly to check on him one last time, and when satisfied, he looked forward again.

Quickly stealing one last look at Katsura's swaying topknot, and then over at what he could see of Hirokatsu's tensed face, he quietly began to slow his own pace until he'd gradually fallen further and further behind. Grateful that everyone seemed to be too intent on getting away to notice, he masked his _ki_. When he found himself at the back of the group, he paused only briefly in the middle of the road to make sure nobody noticed before he whipped around without a word and ran silently back in the direction of the shrine.

* * *

The Shinsengumi's reputation for brutality held solidly. 

Akira had seen more of his charges – other priests, laymen, trainees; all unarmed – fall to the sharp blades of the Wolves. They hadn't listened to pleading, or promises that there hadn't been any sort of treason coming from the bleeding mouths of the other shrine inhabitants. They had been swift, lethally efficient in the slaughter of what they'd claimed upon arriving to be a den of traitors. So he had prepared himself to die, and had planned to greet it welcomingly. He had not expected the sad-eyed man who apparently led the current raid to give orders to hold him separately, to keep him alive.

It was a sentence worse than death, he decided morosely. But he had been prepared the moment he'd received Katsura's pleas to help that he would help them at any costs, because Katsura supported a cause he firmly believed in and that would be achieved, according to the seers. And he would not falter in the face of a promise he'd made – silently to Katsura, completely to himself – even in the face of… _questioning_.

He wasn't about to allow himself to live a coward's long life. He'd rather die a martyr's equally long death; at least his conscience would be clean in the afterlife.

In detention and surrounded by three turquoise-clad Shinsengumi, he meditated with the same method he'd taught his subordinate priests to do in the face of Death. And so he was once again surprised when his meditation was broken by cries and a scalding spray of blood. Upon opening his eyes, he was sure he saw a demon at first, gold eyes glittering eerily in contrast to the silhouette of the fire, swinging a blade to the side and sheathing it before it held out a slender hand to him in a gesture of help. When his vision finally focused around the smoke, his eyes widened when he realized who was standing there.

"Himura…?" he breathed, numbly watching as his own hand moved to take the hitokiri's.

"You need to get the rest of the priests and leave," Himura said quietly, his slender hands stronger than Akira had expected as he was pulled to his feet. "They won't let you go easily, so put as much distance between yourselves and this place as you can."

"You shouldn't be here," Akira said sternly, his wandered mind finally slipping back into place. "Where is Katsura? The rest of the men?"

"Safe." The hitokiri looked away, hand hovering near the hilt of his now-sheathed sword.

Akira suddenly felt anger boiling under the surface of his trained, calm exterior. He didn't blame Himura for the current mess, but he'd be damned if the insolent boy thought he was doing them a favor by coming back to rescue them. "Does Katsura know you're here?"

"No, and I hope he doesn't follow me," Himura replied coldly.

"You should have been with them. Katsura came here for _your_ sake, so don't you dare let that be in vain!" Akira hissed, grabbing the front of Himura's gi and forcing him to match gazes.

Himura's gold eyes widened slightly, and then looked away almost guiltily as he brushed the priest's hands from his uniform. "They would have caught up to us. We'd already had several Shinsengumi on our trail by the time I doubled back."

"But that doesn't mean you have to be the one to sacrifice yourself."

Himura shook his head. "But I would have only slowed them down further. I could hardly keep up as it was."

Akira couldn't help but gape at the young man standing so solemnly before him. "Do you really think your suicide here will remedy the situation?" he whispered angrily. "I won't stand by to watch it. This is madness. You shouldn't be here, and I'm not leaving until you do."

Himura then gazed at him with an icy, dark expression that made the blood freeze in the priest's veins and bile rise in the back of his throat. "I don't need any more people dying on my behalf. Don't forget that you have other priests here depending on you, Akira-san." Akira shuddered; Himura spoke the truth. He did have others who were depending on his help, and he was only making matters worse by threatening the only one who really could help them in this situation. "The back way is clear, for now. Take the survivors who can move, and get out of here. The road forks three miles down, and again another half-mile after that. Take the right path first, and then the left. It'll take you to a place where you'll be safe for the time being."

"But what about you?"

Himura smiled sadly. "Don't worry about me. I didn't come here with the intention to die."

Akira regarded him seriously, and then nodded slowly when he saw that Himura was indeed serious. He would do his best to make it out alive. Though it wasn't much of an assurance, it was enough of one to cause him to spring into action.

"Don't disappoint us, Himura-san," he said with a curt bow. Himura nodded, and he turned away and ran towards the back end of the shrine, ignoring the nagging feeling that the hitokiri was in for a lot of trouble, half-hearted assurances aside. The boy had been badly injured and physically wasn't ready to fight, regardless of his mental state. He almost turned back to tell him that, try to call him on a lie that he wasn't sure existed.

But when he looked over his shoulder, Himura was already gone.

* * *

The party had continued on in silence, and Katsura began to worry once more that the pace he'd set was taking its toll on Himura. The boy had to be hurting; though Himura seemed annoyed about the constant fussing and checking in, Katsura hadn't looked back in at least twenty minutes. It had to be some kind of record for him. Hirokatsu was likely keeping an eye on the hitokiri and watching for signs of side effects from the herbal cocktail they'd had him down. While he hated it when Himura gave him the _'don't you dare mother-hen me'_ look, he had to know if he was holding up at that pace. 

His heart leaped to his throat when he finally mustered up the determination to cast a glance over his shoulder – he didn't see Himura. Panicked, he came to a full halt, stepping aside to let the others pass by him, but they too slowed to a stop in confusion. When Hirokatsu caught up to him, he immediately read the panicked, wild look in Katsura's eyes and he too stopped to look around. Himura wasn't there.

"Himura!" Katsura shouted, looking around frantically.

"Damn it, kid," Hirokatsu breathed angrily. "_Goddamn _it."

"When did you last see him?" Katsura was suddenly standing toe-to-toe with the older healer, giving him a scathing – but worried – glare. "Did you see him leave?"

Hirokatsu scrubbed his face with his hand in frustration. "I don't know. Back closer to the shrine, but I didn't notice when he left."

"Shit," Katsura muttered under his breath. "We're going to have to look for him. He might've fallen behind and—"

"You know as well as I do that he didn't simply fall behind, Katsura-sama," Hirokatsu interrupted him in a low voice. "And as much as I want to beat some sense into that boy's hide, I'd venture to say that he's saving _our _hides right now by steering the Shinsengumi off our trail."

"Damn it, Tatsumo – we can't just _leave_ him there!" Katsura exclaimed, gesturing angrily back down the path with one hand. "We came to this shrine to save his life. We gave him that damned elixir so that he'd make it back to Kyoto, not so that he could fight! I'm not about to let him go throw his life away just because he's worried for our sakes."

"Katsura-sama…"

"Don't. We're going back."

Hirokatsu stepped in the younger man's path. "You know I would agree with you on this, but it's too late now. Going back there would mean suicide for us all. Who knows, maybe Himura managed to summon that demon he supposedly has living in him and killed them all." He saw the entire group flinch at the mention of Himura's bloody reputation, but he didn't seem to care. "Katsura, you trained him to be a killer. Let's put our faith in him that he'll do a good enough job to stay alive; he's done at least that much so far."

Katsura knew the man had a good point, and that he _hated_ turning tail and leaving as much as Katsura did. They really didn't have a choice. Katsura brushed one hand over his face and into his hair, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he turned again to face the path to Kyoto.

"_Damn_ it," he said through clenched teeth. With a sigh, he looked up and regarded the men he'd brought with them. He had them to worry about as well. But he didn't have to like this decision. "We're going."

He moved forward, and his men followed, as it would always be. And he would continue to worry about Himura until the boy was back in Kyoto, safe and whole. However, part of him _knew_ that this decision – while being totally right – was utterly wrong, and he could only hope that Himura would make it out alive.

* * *

Kenshin hardly had time to watch the surviving priests – at least, those that could move on their own power – run down the path with Akira and away from the small raid-and-plunder before he plunged back into it. Though part of him was relieved that there weren't as many Shinsengumi attacking the shrine as he had feared there would be, another part of him shrieked in warning that there was something more. There was an elusive presence nearby, possibly several, but he couldn't afford the concentration to track them down. It was taking all his concentration not to hurt himself while he was fighting the opposing swordsmen; he had to cut back on a number of his techniques, since his aching body refused to move in certain directions required for them. General battoujutsu was barely manageable, while any variations on it threatened to make him falter. _Do ryu sen _was out of the question. What techniques he _could _use – basics, mostly – he made sure were deadly. He couldn't waste more than two strokes on any given enemy in his current state. 

And his current state was being threatened further by a rather uncomfortable nausea building deep in his belly. Though he usually was able to focus past it, the niggling feeling was just enough to cause his vision to waver every so often, and would put off an enemy's death by one stroke, and then two. When it took four to down one enemy, he knew he was running out of time. He hoped that Katsura and the rest of the group had put enough distance between themselves and the now burned down shrine to make it out unscathed. Katsura had to know by now that he'd jilted them and went back. He had to know that Kenshin was doing it for the survival of the group, and hoped – _trusted _– he would be wise enough not to come after him.

A blinding pain punched deep into his gut, and he realized he'd pulled stitches. Looking down at the fallen, bloodied Shinsen member on the ground at his feet, he realized from the fatal wound he'd delivered the man that he'd used a technique he shouldn't have without thinking. Knees trembling and threatening to buckle beneath him, he faltered even as he felt the hostile presence of another soldier charging him from behind. Twisting to the side as best he could, the man managed to hole the broad sleeve of his navy gi, the sword sticking. Kenshin tried to jerk his arm away, but the fabric was caught on the blade and wouldn't tear. Striking the man across the back of his head with the hilt of his katana, he felt the man's grip on the sword loosen and he jerked away, only to have to duck beneath the swing of a second man behind him. Stabbing upward, he felt his katana's blade slide effortlessly through the flesh of his enemy's exposed throat, felt the warm spray of blood and heard the death-gurgles and the thud of the dying body as it connected with the ground and finally lay still.

He didn't have time to pull the blade out from his sleeve before he felt the _ki _of another person approaching him, but oddly the new presence was softer, almost as if his over-reactive nerves were tingling as an effect from the drugs rather than a new enemy. But when he heard a sharp whistling from the trees descend on him quickly, he spun and swung his sword in a diagonal arc, clenching his teeth as he heard his blade strike more metal. A small metal object bounced off his sword and hit the ground several feet wide with a sharp thwack, the truth verified with a quick glance – shuriken.

_Ninja. _

And if there was one here, there had to be more elsewhere.

Another group of four Shinsen wolves were close by. They were easier to pick out, with flaring, blatantly hostile _ki_ and no attempt to conceal their movements. It was the ninja he really had to worry about. He'd fought ninja countless times before – and at least once that he really didn't want to think about just now – and he'd never emerged from those skirmishes completely unscathed. Shishou's harsh training was the only reason he wasn't killed in those encounters. He wasn't sure how well he'd fare, however, now that he was sufficiently injured.

And sick.

His stomach was roiling now, and every movement he made caused it to protest further. Hirokatsu told him it might do that, but he hadn't realized just how bad it was going to get. With a quick tug, he managed to free the katana from his sleeve and used it to block the handful of needles that were hurled his way. Another shuriken whistled towards him, and this time he ducked out of its path. Two more followed in succession, and he barely managed to dodge and parry those. If he had a little more energy, he would've been glad to know the ninja's exact location. He was perched in the third row of trees off the path. But Kenshin's stomach protested further when he realized he was going to have to either jump up there, unless he came up with a way to lure the ninja down to him.

It took almost a moment too long to think of – and he wasn't even sure if it'd work – but he didn't have time. The next shuriken that flew at him, he caught the shuriken between two fingers, rolling back with the weapon's line of flight to absorb it more easily. The sharp metal edges bit into the skin of his fingers, but not quite enough to break the skin. They were likely poisoned, so he had to be extremely careful. Taking the full weight of the fall to his side, he lay still once he'd hit the ground. It hurt like hell, but it had to look real.

The softer presence grew a little stronger, and after a few moments, he heard the soft thump as the ninja hit the ground and approached him quietly. Using the _ki_ as a beacon, as soon as the ninja was close enough, he quickly flipped onto his back and threw the star back at the ninja. Caught by surprise, the star struck his enemy's shoulder in a spray of blood – not quite where Kenshin was aiming, but it would do – and he stood there for a moment, eyes wide above the black cloth covering his mouth and nose, before he fell to his knees and then collapsed.

The poison was fast-acting, then. He would have to be _very_ careful.

The four Shinsengumi had heard the commotion and were heading towards him now. Trying to push himself to his feet, his roiling insides finally rebelled, hardly giving him time to turn to the side. After heaving a second time, he was finally able to get the spasms under control, and he swiped a shaking, guard-clad hand across his mouth. He grimaced when he looked down – his vomit was tinted a reddish-pink. Bad sign for one with a healing stomach wound. He had to get out of there, and fast.

A shout attracted his attention, and he looked up to find that the first of the four Shinsengumi had spotted him and was pointing to his comrades. They charged – no formation, Kenshin noted with some level of relief – swords positioned for the famous vertical slash that he'd heard about. Staggering to his feet and away from the mess, he swallowed the foul-tasting bile in his throat and with a flick of his sword, he slid it effortlessly back into the sheath and crouched low for a simple battoujutsu and let them come to him.

When the first man was close enough, he whipped out his sword in a flashing arc that connected with the man's side in a burst of red, ducking the man's katana as it sailed past his face and over his shoulder. He had to brace his sword hand with his other as he pressed the katana and felt it tear through muscle, bone, and soft innards as it tore the man in half. Blood spattered across his grimy face, and he blinked it out of his eyes as he flash-stepped past the falling body and met the second with a quick, forward thrust through his chest before he could react. Tearing the sword upwards, he felt a sharp twinge in his back and gut, but he had to ignore them – the third man was on him already. Bracing one foot on the second Shinsengumi's breastplate, he pushed the dead man off his blade and sent him flying into the third, who stumbled forward into just the right position for Kenshin to leap over the body and bear down on him with a vicious downward stroke that severed his head from his body.

The fourth man was a little wiser – he held back long enough to watch Battousai mercilessly cut his comrades down, and sized up the smaller swordsman with a snarl on his face.

"Name yourself, Battousai," the man hissed, pulling the sword hilt to his back shoulder, the sharp edge of the blade skyward and the tip pointing threateningly at Kenshin.

Kenshin grimaced as he flicked the blood from his blade. This was not going to end well. Before he could reply to the Shinsengumi before him, he heard another whistling noise and barely managed to duck out of the way of another shuriken. The second ninja had arrived, and Kenshin briefly wondered just how many of them were hiding in the forest around the shrine's grounds. The fourth Shinsengumi charged with a yell, and even while Kenshin prepared to attack him, he picked up the soft disturbance of another weapon being hurled his way. It wasn't a shuriken this time, but he dodged to the side – avoiding both projectile and attack – as the bolt struck the charging Shinsen soldier instead. With a grunt, the swordsman stumbled, and Kenshin took advantage of the distraction and muscled the man against him around to his front to block the next two bolts heading his way. The soldier jerked in his hands as the weapons connected; Kenshin dropped him and charged after where he'd pinpointed the ninja's location to be. This one was on the ground.

Another shuriken whistled past his face, but he kept running. It had only confirmed where the ninja was hiding. The ninja looked startled when Kenshin suddenly appeared before him, sword raised high for a strike. With a yell, Kenshin swung downwards, but was stopped when a bolt connected with his shoulder and sent him staggering backwards a few steps. Grimacing – trying hard not to let it remind him of a previous encounter with these ninja – he brought up his blade with both hands and blocked the ninja's quickly-drawn short sword, his face inches away from the ninja's. The ninja's dark eyes glittered, telling of a confident smirk. The expression was quickly replaced with one of surprise when Kenshin dropped one hand from the block and gripped the hilt of his wakizashi with it, jabbing the ninja in the gut with it before he drew it and stabbed it into his enemy's chest. The ninja gagged and stumbled a just far enough back for Kenshin to push his sword away from the lock and use his katana to finish the job.

The last whistling noise came too late to warn him of the incoming shuriken, and while he managed to dodge to the side to avoid a fatal blow, the star cut a shallow path along his forearm. He hissed, jerked his sword free from the second ninja as he turned to face the new threat. The cut had already begun to burn; he didn't have much time, but he didn't know how many more ninja were still out there. Another shuriken flew at him, but this time when he dodged to the side, he stepped right in the path of another one. Throwing up his left arm to block, he let the star strike his forearm. It was better than letting it hit a vital point. He immediately pulled it out and tossed it to the side, but now his vision was blurring and wavering. His shaking, unsteady legs buckled beneath him, bringing him to his knees. He heard distant shouts and distantly felt several more presences coming towards him, but his body felt too heavy to react to any of them.

The third ninja was closing in, and though he could sense the man, he sluggishly realized that he wasn't going to be able to avoid any more of his attacks. The cuts on his arms burned like fire and Kenshin found himself wavering even on his knees, the world tilting and blurring and suddenly sideways. His stomach lurched, throat burning as a bitter taste passed through his mouth, but he no longer had any energy to fight down the wave of nausea. Several sets of hands were turning him to his side, and he suddenly realized that he couldn't move his numbed limbs and it was harder to breathe. But even the panic wasn't enough to keep the world from blinking out in a flurry of bright lights and distant pain. _Poison_,his mind sluggishly recognized. And if that was the case… he wouldn't make it. Part of him felt the need to apologize to Akira-san that he had gone on a suicide mission after all, but Akira wasn't there.

He wondered, fleetingly, if the others had gotten out alive.

* * *

_**.end chapter 5.**_

* * *

**Historical Notes**

_I had a question on the kokugaku sect in one of the earlier chapters, so I thought I might as well answer it here in case anyone else has the same question. While I was studying abroad, I took a history course that focused on Japanese religion and society, and I ended up doing a presentation on a reading for the class that covered the post-Bakumatsu/early Meiji religious changes that the new government put in place, mostly concerning the Great Promulgation Campaign that legally separated Buddhism from folk religion (which had no name until that point, at which it began being called the Shinto 'religion'). Folk religion had been heavily reliant on Buddhism for its structure for many centuries, but the main goal of the GPC was to boost nationalism in the form of religion, and Shinto was considered Japan's only 'native' religion, as Buddhism had been imported from China despite the fact that it had been in Japan for centuries at that point. Needless to say, the GPC largely failed, but that's another story for another time. ;)_

_I promise I'm getting to a point here, haha. The first part of the reading I had to cover in my presentation did a little background on the Great Promulgation Campaign's origin, and it turns out that there was this one religious sect during the Bakumatsu that had heavily supported the Ishin Shishi efforts. They were strongly against foreign influence, and they were the first to come up with the notion that Buddhism wasn't a 'purely Japanese' religion. This group came to be called "__kokugaku," "__koku" meaning country (implying nationalism) and "__gaku" meaning school. While they did not participate outright in the actual war, they were very supportive of the "__sonno joi" ("revere the Emperor and expel the barbarians") motto of the Ishin Shishi. Mind you, I did take plenty of artistic liberties on this idea with this story, but this is the historical aspect that I'd pulled it from. Yes, there was an actual kokugaku sect, and yes, they did support the Ishin Shishi._

_I hope that answers your question at least a little, misaoshiru. ;) As for the rest of you, if you also have any contextual questions (historical or otherwise), don't hesitate to ask them. I'll do my best to answer._

* * *


	6. 6 :: Pawn

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro, and all companies holding the license to its title and distribution. Used without permission for non-profit creative purposes._

_There are also a few references to the dramatized characterizations of actual Shinsengumi members used in Shinsengumi Imon Peace Maker. Those are the creative property of Kurono Nanae, Gangan Comics, and all other companies affiliated with the title._

_Warnings:__language, graphic violence and brutality_

* * *

**Chapter 6: Pawn**

Suzuka had only heard rumors about the hitokiri Battousai, and thus had expected to see some sort of larger-than-life samurai when one of the ninja messengers brought word that they'd successfully captured him. He had not expected them to dump a small, fragile-looking boy – unbelievably _young_ – at his feet. The boy's long red hair was tangled and matted with mud, sweat and blood, and when his head flopped to the side, the trademark scar stood out painfully against the pale, dirty skin of his cheek. Suzuka shuddered. Even children were being used by the devils, and it made him sick.

Matsuo, on the other hand, didn't seem at all affected by the hitokiri's age or appearance. The man was practically vibrating with excitement and Suzuka half-expected him to kick the unconscious captive out of sheer cussedness. Instead, Matsuo was shouting orders to have Battousai bound tightly and transported back to headquarters immediately, with the caution to be careful and make sure he was still alive upon arrival there. Suzuka was instructed to see that these orders were properly carried out.

At first, he thought the task would be fairly easy. Escorting a rather unresponsive captive was hardly an issue, and seeing how the Ishin had turned tail and abandon him at the shrine – presumably – they were unlikely to come after him now. But as they made progress back to Nara in the pouring rain, Battousai's condition worsened. The two soldiers who carried the bound hitokiri between them suddenly stopped, one of them calling out to Suzuka with a worried voice. Battousai's fever had spiked, and he was shaking almost uncontrollably, he noticed when he approached. Suzuka swore under his breath and suddenly wished that they'd brought a carriage or a wagon with them on the mission; the rain was most assuredly not helping.

"Give him to me," Suzuka ordered, pulling his horse up alongside the soldiers. Battousai moaned as he was moved, and Suzuka nearly flinched when he felt the heat radiating from his skin as he shifted in his saddle to accommodate the new burden. "This rain isn't doing him any good. I'll ride on ahead with Battousai; move double-time and try to get there as quickly as possible behind me. Lead them, Inoue."

Inoue frowned, probably displeased with any sort of show of compassion towards the murderer they'd captured, but he was trained to obey orders. He nodded and motioned to the other soldiers in Suzuka's dispatch. With a curt nod, Suzuka tightened his grip on the shuddering boy and kicked his horse into a gallop. He wondered briefly just what kind of poison the ninja had used to subdue Battousai, and if they'd actually intended to kill him with it in the end. He shook his head on that thought, reminding himself that if they'd wanted to kill Battousai, he'd be dead by now. Besides, what was waiting for the hitokiri back in Nara was far worse than death ever could be, and he doubted that particular ninja clan would harbor such kind feelings towards the killer. He'd done research, and he'd discovered that members of said clan did not have the best history with Ishin's prized demon. They would rather see him suffer, he determined, which was exactly why he'd suggested them to Matsuo.

Well, the boy had to be suffering now, he thought. The longer they rode through the forest at full-gallop, it seemed the more the boy shook and moaned, and the higher his fever rose. Suzuka gritted his teeth and urged his horse to go faster; it would do him no good to arrive in Nara with a dead captive.

When Suzuka finally reached the outskirts of Nara, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. With a quick glance down at Battousai to make sure he was still breathing, he nearly faltered – the boy's lips had taken on an unhealthy blue tint. Though the main training grounds weren't far, he didn't have much time to spare if he'd want to deliver a living hostage back into Matsuo's hands.

Fervently, he prayed that the hitokiri would live – not for Battousai's sake, but rather his own.

* * *

While Matsuo had planned the many things he would do once he captured Battousai, he could hardly form a coherent execution of those plans now that the demon was in his hands. Though word from his healers had said that the demon was deathly ill, he still felt a thrill of achievement. Battousai was a useful bargaining tool, and if he played his pieces correctly, he was on the right path to achieving his ultimate goal. He had to be cautious, however. The Shinsengumi leadership in Kyoto was definitely not to be underestimated in the realm of intrigue.

Matsuo had already sent the messenger to Hijikata, informing him of the subsequent capture of the famed hitokiri. At least they couldn't fault him for that much, should they choose to oppose him on any future actions regarding the matter. While Battousai was a lofty goal met, the real end objective was the capture of Katsura Kogoro, or any of the key Ishin leaders for that matter. Anything that could give him a name would be useful. But with Battousai in hand, Matsuo was one step closer to reaching that end. Without their best leaders, the Ishin would fall to a squabbling rabble of ambitious fools and would ultimately fall apart. Hijikata had to see the benefit in this.

For the time being, however, there was much to take care of. Matsuo was anxious to meet this famous bloodthirsty demon he now held captive. He would do so later in the day. For now, he had an ultimatum to finish writing. Summoning one of the aides near the door, he requested his writing tools and parchment, and to have Suzuka bring them. Suzuka was a shrewd man and would be quite useful in the more delicate matters such as these.

* * *

Reality flickered in and out of focus. Minutes became days became years, and sometimes backwards. Kenshin thought he smelled white plums, and then the thought passed as he caught scent of blood and illness which in turn made him ill. The world was painted green and then red, and then back to green, sometimes littered with nameless corpses or familiar faces. Hot and cold, frigid and stifling. Rough hands on tender wounds, questions that he wasn't sure he could answer – or would, for that matter – angry mutterings and frustrated arguments flew like arrows over his head. Perhaps they were arrows, and that was what he saw dancing across his visions.

But that was ridiculous, his mind was telling him as reality slowly came back into focus and stayed put long enough for him to piece a few things together. The first thing he noticed was that his teeth were chattering painfully inside his head, and the second was that he was alone inside a wooden shack – barn, storehouse, who knew – with nothing but torn and bloodstained clothing to keep the chill out. The third was that it wasn't actually cold outside; rather, it was intensely muggy and uncomfortably hot, but the heat didn't quite seem to reach his shaking limbs. Fourth: he was sick, then. Curled on his side, the dirt of the floor uncomfortably pressed into the side of his face and his shoulder was cramped from lying on it at such an awkward angle for so long, but when he tried to move his hands to shift positions, his wrists felt the harsh resistance of the tightly-wrapped thick twine that held them securely behind his back.

Then he remembered, and almost wished he hadn't: he was supposed to be dead.

Rationality kicked in; Shinsengumi were not known to keep captives. He knew the Shinsengumi had initiated the attack on the shrine, as their uniforms were distinctive nearly to the point of hilarity. It would be funny if the Shinsengumi didn't have such a solid reputation for being an intense, by-the-book group of samurai. He knew that much from experience as well, in his own dealings with them. Captives were rare, unless they were looking for specific information, of which he truthfully had very little that they would find useful.

He remembered ninja, and, as his stomach roiled in bitter reminder, poison. Had the ninja been another faction entirely? It hadn't seemed as though that was the case at the time. Then again, there was at least one ninja clan he could name that might demand his blood, but he stuck with his gut feeling that they were hired out by the Shinsengumi.

Which probably meant that the Shinsengumi thought he had information valuable to their cause. What that information might possibly be, he couldn't determine; but he did know that finding out would be rather unpleasant, if the rumors surrounding Hijikata's methods of interrogation were any indication.

Another harsh shudder shook him down his spine from collarbone to tailbone, the sudden movement extracting a surprised gasp as he felt still-tender injuries jar against the hard dirt floor. His vision blurred at the edges, the lack of focus made him dizzy even as he lay on the ground, and the vertigo gave him a headache. Muscles and joints aching with fever, his body felt like leaden weight. Weak as a kitten. Had he anything left in his stomach, he was sure it wouldn't be long before he revisited it. Doubtful, though – he didn't even know how long he'd been in captivity for. He could have been there for days, for all he knew.

He closed his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around the situation. It was a form of distraction, which he sorely needed. This was a grave situation to find oneself in, but not a hopeless one. He was alive, for one, and would remain so until the Shinsengumi realized that he really didn't know as much as they thought he did – should that be what they were looking for. If he could just get his body to move, he was fairly certain he could break out of the rot wood walls of the shack without too much trouble. He might not know exactly where he was, but he could find out once he made it outside. The only bindings he could sense were the ones on his hands. They knew he was weak, but their mistake was in underestimation.

And his was in overestimation.

Kenshin had barely moved one knee to get it underneath him before he felt his stomach rebel sharply, spasms from his diaphragm forcing him to dry-heave. It was miserable, this nasty feeling of too much poison in his system. He wasn't even sure he had gotten over the effects of Hirokatsu's draught. His eyes burned and watered as nothing came up, his body shaking even more violently than before.

But he could get through this. He had to.

* * *

"Hijikata-san!" exclaimed an optimistic, youthful voice just outside the paper shoji that separated Hijikata's office from the courtyard.

The voice unmistakably belonged to Okita Souji, the Shinsengumi's first division captain. Hijikata sighed irritably; he'd just started in on another stack of reports. But there was no helping it, anyway. The shoji slid open to reveal a winded Souji. Hijikata shot him a concerned frown, which Souji summarily ignored. The captain was carrying a scroll, and held it out for Hijikata.

"It's a message from Nara," Souji explained when Hijikata took the scroll. "Matsuo Ryuichi's seal is on the outside. The courier said it contained important news, and requires a prompt reply."

"Give it to Isami – it's his department," Hijikata curtly replied, holding the scroll back out to Okita without even looking up.

"I tried to tell the courier that, but he specifically said this was for you," Okita said insistently, refusing to take it back. "I think it's important."

Hijikata sighed again as he glared first at the first division captain and then down at the parchment. He really hated handling these matters, which was the main reason why his boss – Kondo Isami – usually handled them. But he relented, breaking the seal and reading. For a moment, he wasn't paying attention in his irritation, but a word – a name – caught his eye. He reread it, and though he refused to show it, the news greatly surprised him. Battousai was captured in Nara? By a sub-captain whose name he didn't even recognize? It had to be some kind of mistake.

"Hijikata-san…?"

"Close the door, Souji."

Okita did as Hijikata bid him to, and out of curiosity he moved closer to try to read the writing on the message. Hijikata handed the paper to him,

"But isn't this good news, Hijikata-san?" Okita asked after a moment of quiet reading. "We've been trying to track down Battousai for some time now."

"That's not the issue." Okita shot a strange look back up at Hijikata, who sighed. "We don't even know how much truth this message holds. Our typical policy with public enemies is to kill them in battle, not capture them unless we need information. If that's the case, then this Matsuo might simply be causing trouble."

"Battousai's high-profile, though," Okita pointed out.

"But that doesn't mean he knows everything about the Ishin's inner workings," Hijikata said. "He's simply a tool of Katsura Kogoro, like all his other soldiers. This Matsuo is likely placing too high a value on what information Battousai might offer."

Okita's eyes sparkled with understanding, and he nodded. "We should probably verify the message, then."

"Do me a favor, Souji. Pass this message on to Isami, and see what he thinks. Or have Tetsunosuke do it."

Rolling up the scroll, Okita stood again with a nod. With a brief farewell, he left the room. Once it was quiet again, Hijikata massaged his temples with his fingers.

"Did you get that, Yamazaki?" he asked suddenly.

"I did," a voice confirmed from behind the back shoji. "Do you want me to look into it?"

"Aa," Hijikata confirmed. "Find out what's really going on in Nara. I want to know if this Matsuo really does have Battousai, and what he intends to do with him."

"It will be done," Yamazaki replied, and then he vanished.

Hijikata went back to massaging his forehead, vainly fighting off the beginnings of what he knew would be a long, obnoxious headache. This was not supposed to be a day for bad tidings, but somehow the entire day had turned entirely sour. While Battousai's capture was good news, Hijikata was concerned about Matsuo's motives. Of course, dismissing the man would be the simplest way to solve the problem, but Hijikata was sure that by this point, news had spread of Matsuo's _epic endeavor_, regardless of how the hitokiri had ended up in his hands – if at all. Removing him would cause a stir within the ranks, and while the Shinsengumi were far from shorthanded after the street-famous Ikeda-ya raid, Hijikata was not in the mood for any sort of dissension, especially since there were more soldiers capable of rioting. Matsuo laid down a pretty impressive hand, and it was Hijikata's turn to see how much of it was a bluff before he made his next move.

Hijikata had a bad feeling that this was only the beginning of a frustrating situation, in which there would be no winners.

* * *

It had been a little over a week – nearly a week and a half – since Himura had shown up at the inn's back door, half-dead and bleeding all over the foyer. Sato had yet to hear a word back from Katsura on the boy's condition, which was the least he could have done for her help, she decided huffily. She wanted to know that the boy was all right, and not dead. He'd certainly looked it when he'd been taken from the inn by Katsura's men.

Since then, Sato had waited for the day that the Shinsengumi would trace Himura's steps to her door, and she was glad she had nothing much to tell them, if she had to. The recent influx of Shinsengumi was troubling to her; she didn't like how vicious they'd become in her area, without such a strong influence like Kondou or even Hijikata keeping them in check. The Ikeda-ya raid had only bolstered Shinsengumi membership, and the growing number of turquoise coats on the streets was very troublesome, especially since not much happened in a tourist town like Nara. Usually. Once in a while, they'd stop at her inn, and those times were always more tense and stressful than any other time, especially if any Ishin might happen to show up while they were there. She couldn't simply turn them out, either.

Perhaps the only upside to having Shinsengumi visit her inn was the fact that some of them became particularly loose-tongued after a few rounds of her best sake. Sato wasn't a spy, but she was good at gleaning information when she could get her hands on it. And when a round of Shinsengumi lumbered into her inn that evening for a round of sake, she grinned and bore it with the hope that it'd prove useful.

There were four turquoise-clad Shinsengumi, and they took the corner table closest to the outside wall with not so much as a greeting in her direction. She did not expect one. The apparent leader of the group ordered several rounds of dumplings and a few flasks of medium-grade sake – _Ah, so they might actually be on a budget, _Sato noted – which she had one of her girls bring out to them once it had been warmed. The girl had been told to report back whatever they might be talking about, as she always had her workers do with any potentially suspicious or trouble-making customers.

It didn't take long for the group of soldiers to grow rowdy under the influence of the alcohol. Sato had expected as much, and wasn't surprised when their voices grew louder as two of them began arguing over something as ridiculous as who looked the best in the trademark Shinsengumi uniform. New recruits, perhaps. Nothing of interest from them, then.

Sato was quite surprised, then, to hear moments later from one of her girls serving the group that there was a rumor spreading about a high-profile prisoner the local Shinsengumi official had captured. One apparently had blurted out that they'd finally captured Battousai, but the others had shushed him. The news left a sour taste in her mouth, but she was careful to keep her expression neutral. After Sato thanked the girl, she resolved to forward the message to Katsura's lodging in Kyoto to inquire after Himura. She knew she could very well be simply paranoid about the situation, but she had to make sure the young man wasn't the one that the Shinsengumi were holding in their new complex.

She had a very bad feeling, however, that her fears were wholly well-founded as she excused herself to her office briefly to scrawl out a message. Few, simple words, in case the courier was detained, but enough that Katsura would know what it meant.

_Is the boy with you?_

* * *

Matsuo's reaction was both frightening and entirely expected; Suzuka had known long before his commanding officer sent the courier in Kyoto's direction that he would receive a reply he did not like. Had Suzuka truly stood behind Matsuo's decisions thus far concerning the famed assassin they now held in their makeshift jail, he might have tried to warn the man ahead of time. On the other hand, it was likely Matsuo would not have listened.

At this point in time, however, Matsuo had made a wrong move. Battousai would not be valuable any further than the fact that he was a famous enemy, which – at most – might be a potentially demoralizing loss to the Choshuu. The fact that the hitokiri was in poor condition anyway made it more difficult to make a strong case on Matsuo's behalf to appeal to real Shinsengumi leadership. Battousai was a poor pawn in a higher-stakes game like this.

But it did seem that Hijikata was curious, after all; he'd wanted proof of Battousai's capture, and he wanted Matsuo to transport him to Kyoto to do so. And Matsuo was in such a fit about it that he didn't even notice the blatantly obvious – but entirely valid – excuse he could send in reply. It would be verified by whichever of Yamazaki's conglomerates that Hijikata had most certainly sent to ensure the credibility of Matsuo's claims.

Battousai was unable to travel, due to the wounds he received in the process of his capture.

Suzuka would point this excuse out to him, and would make it look like it was Matsuo's idea in the first place. That was how this game worked – it had served him well thus far, as he was still alive. Besides, such a story would likely be confirmed by outside sources under Hijikata's command.

No, Suzuka was no fool; he knew that Hijikata had sent someone besides the courier to ensure Matsuo's messages contained no obvious lies. Hijikata worked that way. This was also dangerous ground; if Suzuka made himself appear too strongly in support of Matsuo's Nara faction, he could risk downfall should the Kyoto leadership ever decide the man was too much of a menace to lead the Nara branch. But if he did not put on a show of loyalty to Matsuo, he would surely be told to commit seppuku – an order he could not disobey.

Suzuka shuddered; this was such a mess, really. He would have to choose sides eventually; he only hoped he chose the right one.

"Suzuka."

Matsuo's irritated voice cut through his thoughts, and he nearly jumped. Scolding himself, he quickly schooled his expression to one of deep thought. He couldn't lose focus now. The courier looked rather cowed now, Suzuka noticed with a small measure of sympathy for the man. Matsuo sighed, clearly flustered and still upset.

"My humble apologies, Matsuo-sama," Suzuka said hastily, bowing, his head to the tatami mats below him. "This humble one was simply considering the situation carefully."

"And?" Matsuo wasn't impressed.

"I spoke with the healers, my lord," Suzuka continued. _Careful._ "They're concerned that Battousai's poor condition will make it difficult to get any answers out of him for some time; a week, even. Perhaps–"

Matsuo's face suddenly looked thoughtful, and held up a hand to cut off Suzuka. Good, he was taking the right train of thought. The man might have a one-track mind in some regards, but he wasn't entirely a fool.

"Please relay this message to your master, courier," Matsuo said, foul mood slowly lifting. "Tell him that the prisoner is in too poor of health to travel. He barely made it the short trip here, and a dead prisoner offers no answers. Please ask Hijikata-sama to bear this in mind."

Right into his hands, really. Suzuka was careful not to let his thoughts show as he kept his forehead pressed to the floor. He could practically feel the courier relax as Matsuo's rather frightening _ki _cooled from a blazing rage to a simmer. The courier nodded curtly with an affirmed grunt.

"If you will excuse me."

Suzuka slowly lifted his head as he heard the courier slide the shoji shut behind him. Matsuo didn't appear to be watching him, and instead sat with a deeply furrowed brow. He was thinking, then. Good.

"If you will excuse me as well, my lord, I will go check on our prisoner now," Suzuka said quietly, bowing his head once more.

Matsuo cast him one look, and with a grunt and a wave, Suzuka respectfully removed himself from the room to allow Matsuo space. Before he went to the warehouse – the only place they could keep prisoners, as they had yet to finish building the jail cells in the new complex – he planned to take a quick stop by his quarters to write a quick note. Hopefully he would catch the courier before he left.

Suddenly, the hair stood on the back of his neck as he made his way from Matsuo's quarters. Someone was following him, watching. Ah, Hijikata's extra – and if that was the case, either Hijikata hadn't chosen his spy well, or the spy had intended to be noticed.

_Careful now,_ he reminded himself. Neutrality was key here, as was the truth.

And in the blink of an eye, the observer was gone. No, not gone – concealed again, Suzuka assumed. Instead of bothering him – as it would some – it confirmed what he had been suspecting. Matsuo was under heavy surveillance, and Suzuka had just been warned. This was his one chance at blamelessness should all go wrong on Matsuo's end, and he could not afford to make any wrong turns. Taking a shuddering, deep breath, he continued on his way.

Gods, such a mess, but not an unfortunate one. Not yet.

* * *

It was as he had suspected: Suzuka was no fool. A matter of time would tell if Suzuka could be counted on, now that he knew the situation. Yamazaki had made sure of it. Matsuo – for now – was telling the truth, but how long that would last remained to be seen. The hot-headed Nara branch head had indeed managed to snare a rather interesting catch, but his motives were still unclear. Hijikata would surely be informed by nightfall of the situation from the courier; he would follow soon after and give his own report.

For now, there were still interesting matters to look into. There had been a bit of a stir over at the warehouse earlier that he wanted to investigate further before he traveled back to Kyoto. Battousai might be ill by the healers' reports, but a cornered, injured animal strikes the hardest.

With a smirk, Yamazaki vanished into the shadows, curious to see what would happen next. _How will you handle this turn of events, Matsuo? If you let Battousai slip through your fingers, what will you tell Hijikata-sama then?_

* * *

With a quiet snap, Kenshin finally felt – heard – the twine ropes begin to give. His wrists stung, raw from the friction of the twine against his skin and slick with his own blood. Movement still brought intense bouts of vertigo and nausea; remnants of the poison – or Hirokatsu's cocktail, or both – still in his system, he surmised. He would have to be able to work around feeling ill. Trying to distract himself from the discomfort, he occupied himself as he continued to rub his bonds against the edge of the wooden crate he was laying next to. He would need to have a plan of action once he got the rope loose enough to slip his wrists free.

There were two doors to the room, the back one Western-style with metal hinges, the front covered by a mere flap of heavy cloth. He could see the shadow of a guard standing just outside the front, felt his _ki_, saw a corner of turquoise cloth peeking out from behind the doorframe that had long since told him that he was indeed in the hands of the Shinsengumi. The back door would likely be locked, but if the hinges were like anything he'd already encountered in terms of Western invention, he knew how to get around that. He'd just have to be quick and quiet about it, before the guard at the door noticed anything. There was a stack of metal poles in one corner of the shack along with several other wooden crates.

This was more likely a warehouse than anything, he decided. Probably back in the Shinsengumi's base in Nara, since the complex was far newer and did not yet have any sort of prison like the Kyoto headquarters held. He counted his blessings at this point; at least he didn't have a set of wooden bars separating him from freedom. Though he wasn't quite as familiar with Nara as he was with Kyoto, he did know enough of the city's layout to be able to flee from it once he was free.

And suddenly his hands were free. The twine fell loose around his numbed fingers, pain prickling down from forearm to fingertips as feeling was restored. He gingerly brought his hands around in front of him, wincing at the ache in his shoulders from the long hours in an awkward position. As he'd expected, there was a bleeding ring of raw flesh around each wrist, fingers tinted slightly blue from lack of circulation. It occurred to him that he should probably get to his feet and get moving, but then he remembered he didn't really have a course of action planned, aside from trying to force the back door open by its hinges and making a run for it. He supposed he could grab one of the poles for a weapon, if he needed it.

Wincing, he pushed himself up until he was sitting, but he had to stop there – his head throbbed mercilessly and the room spun. He didn't have enough time to take the luxury to sit around for long; he heard voices outside the main door, though nobody seemed to be coming in just yet. Gritting his teeth with determination, he forced himself to his wobbly feet, placing his hand against a wooden crate to steady himself as he nearly collapsed.

He needed to get himself together. Weapon first, he decided once he'd gained his bearings. That way, if he was discovered while working on the hinges – the door was indeed Western, he verified with a glance – he could at least defend himself. Progress towards the stack of metal poles was slow, and soon he realized that he would have to be extremely careful not to disturb the entire pile by removing one; the fall would make a great deal more noise than he needed to be making right now.

But before he could make it within reach of the metal poles, he heard a guard walk up to the sentry at the door and begin to speak with him in quiet voices. Kenshin was sure he heard the newcomer mention checking in on the prisoner, and he froze.

_Shit. _Time for a new plan.

Kenshin nearly dove back to where he'd been laying before, wincing as he landed hard on his side. He placed his hands behind his back, clutching the frayed and broken ends of rope in his hands, making sure to keep his back to the crate so that the guard wouldn't see the fact that his bonds had been removed. Feigning unconsciousness, he felt rather than heard the guard enter the warehouse and approach him.

A sudden idea struck him, and while it ruined all hopes of stealth he'd had from before, it was his only chance at this point. He waited, motionless, until he felt the guard stop next to him and bend down. The guard was close enough that Kenshin could feel the brush of the guard's breath, which smelled faintly of sake and fish; Kenshin had to be careful not to wrinkle his nose. He couldn't wait too much longer; otherwise he'd miss his chance.

As soon as the guard reached out to press a hand to his forehead, Kenshin's eyes snapped open. Before the guard could even mutter a surprised curse, he grabbed the man's wrist and pulled him forward, bringing the hilt of the katana stuffed into the guard's obi closer to his reach. His free hand closed around the pommel, and he shoved the guard backwards, the momentum pulling the blade from its sheath. By then, the guard had grunted in surprise, and was turning to call out a warning – which he never had a chance to finish, as Kenshin quickly adjusted his grip on the sword and stabbed the blade deep into the man's chest. With a sharp jerk, he managed to pull the sword free of the man's body, and after a short, staggering step to regain his balance on his feet, he charged the door. The sentry had probably heard the commotion by now – confirmed as the sentry's head appeared around the frame of the door, a surprised look etched into his face.

The look stayed in Kenshin's mind even after he'd taken the guard down with a quick horizontal slash, cleaving head from shoulders in a scalding spray of red. He shuddered, but didn't take the time to dwell on it as he had to put all his concentration into simply _moving_.

Fresh air – only a breath of it before he heard a shout behind him and turned to block it with the stolen blade. There was more than one sentry. He'd expected that much, at least; _still_, he had hoped. He couldn't waste time, and with another block followed by a quick upward swipe, that sentry was down with a wound that ran from mid-calf to hip. Not fatal, but incapacitating. Kenshin didn't have time to deliver the fatal blow, even if the killer's instinct in him told him to finish the job. Pounding feet and a whistle echoed around the corner of the building, and he quickly turned the other direction and ran, stumbling every other step of the way as his overly-abused body refused to listen to him.

_No time, no time, no time –_

It was a mantra that ran through his mind, and kept him going. He rounded the back end of the building, and _there_ – he saw the gate. The complex was surrounded by wood, the trees very like the ones he recalled seeing in the vast groves surrounding Kasuga Taisha. How close was this complex to the shrine? He could hide there; find his way from there once he broke free from here, _if_ he got away.

A snarling, turquoise-clad enemy blocked his path, arms raised. Kenshin swung with a determined cry, planning to cut the man in two as he realized that _the man held no weapon _and–

The world suddenly went gray, white stars dotting his vision as pain shot through his shoulder and side on a hard impact. A heavy weight landed on top of him from behind, knocking the breath from him. Gagging and wheezing, he realized he heard voices distantly shouting above him, and rough hands snatched his arms, one hand twisting his wrist around painfully to force him to let go of the stolen sword's pommel which _damn it, baka deshi, you never drop your sword or you're dead!_ With a snarl, he fought back struggling and tightening his grip on the hilt and striking out at whatever he could get his hands or feet or blade on–

White flashed across his vision, and only after it had cleared did he register that he'd heard a _snap_ and felt the intense pain shooting up his arm –_ oh gods ohgods_ – and the sword was already gone from his pain-numbed fingers before he even felt himself dropping it. Several sets of hands had him pressed to the ground, one cheek smashed into the dirt, which he could taste along with blood and sweat and tears of frustration – were those his? Something sharp was digging into his back, perhaps a knee, or an elbow. He was effectively pinned.

"You're a damned nuisance, Battousai," he heard a harsh voice with hot breath whisper in his ear. Kenshin stilled, face scrunched into a snarl, puffs of dirt flying as he panted heavily into the ground. "You really are a demon, moving like that with those injuries." A hand was threading through his hair at his skull, pulling his neck back painfully off the ground. "You killed my men, hitokiri, and while death would be a far more fitting punishment for you, I have my orders. But I'm sure as hell not going to let you do that again – I'll make sure of it."

A large, calloused hand roughly grabbed his right arm, just above the elbow. Kenshin's heart skipped when he realized what the man was intending to do, but no amount of struggling could stop it. Before he could even draw the breath to protest, there was a vicious jerk that shot white across his vision and he tasted blood in the back of his throat as he –

* * *

Katsura sat up, sweat beading on his forehead, panting heavily, a startled cry barely stifled by awareness that he'd just awoken from a night terror. He didn't even remember it, other than the fact that it was more than unpleasant. Pressing a hand to his chest – and realizing that his heart was pounding way too heavily – he tried to calm himself with several deep breaths, reminding himself that it was just a dream. With a shaking hand, he hastily swiped one hand across his forehead, and pulled the edges of his sleeping yukata closer around himself and rolled out of the futon to his feet, padding across the tatami mats until he reached the shoji that faced the courtyard.

Fresh air – he took several deep breaths of it, and with a shudder he finally managed to calm his nerves to the point that his hands were no longer shaking. The night was blessedly cooler than usual, thanks to a late-evening rain. It was no longer raining now, and the moon was out and crescent-shaped and glowing brightly. By its position, he could tell dawn was yet hours away. He could hear grasshoppers in the nearby shrubs just down the steps and by the stone garden in the inn's courtyard. Sitting at the edge of the wooden ledge just outside his door, he sighed and stared into the garden in meditation, trying to clear his mind.

It wasn't working very well, he realized after ten minutes, a growing headache throbbing behind his eyes. He was worried, and he knew it. No word for three days now – a long three days since they'd fled Akira's shrine in Nara. Was Himura dead? Had he been injured again? Was he hiding out? Come to think of it, he had yet to hear from Akira as well. The shrine had most assuredly been burned to its foundation, and the monks likely killed, unless Himura had done something about that. He held out hope that the hitokiri had taken refuge with any monks that might have escaped the brutal hand of the Shinsengumi, as unlikely as the prospect was.

Massaging his temples with his fingers, Katsura decided that perhaps this wasn't the best time to be dwelling on these issues. He needed to find something to calm his mind and help him meditate. Tea sounded nice; perhaps whoever was on duty that night in reception would be willing to bring him a pot of it. He rose from his spot on the deck, fully intending on reoccupying it as soon as he had a steaming cup of genmai tea in his hands.

He had just pulled on a slightly more suitable yukata when he heard a quiet knock at the interior shoji, and an even quieter voice inquire after him. Startled, he nearly yelped, but managed to suppress it and compose himself enough to reply.

"Please enter," he said softly, not wishing to disturb the other sleeping patrons of the inn.

A young courier he didn't recognize was at the door, but he did recognize the seal he bore. One of his network's, then – and the letter he was handed bore a seal that surprised him greatly. _Sato_. The courier was waiting patiently, remaining bowed to the floor by the shoji; the Nara innkeeper wished for a reply. He broke the seal, and unfolded the parchment.

_Is the boy with you?_

Katsura's heart sank. If Sato was inquiring after Himura, either she was being concerned, or she had heard something troubling. The latter was more likely; while Sato did seem to take a liking to Himura while he'd tried to recuperate at her inn, she wasn't the kind of person to send a message without a good reason. And if she had heard something, then Katsura could only assume the worst, and that was that Himura had been either killed or apprehended by the Shinsengumi. He hadn't made it out of Nara.

For Himura's sake, he prayed that the boy was at least given a samurai's death. If he was still alive… he would probably be tortured for information. And if that was the case, Katsura would have to make a rather unpleasant decision regarding Himura's fate.

Katsura made no sign of what he was thinking as he quickly wrote a reply to Sato, sealed it, and handed it back to the courier. Once the courier left, however, Katsura barely suppressed the sudden desire to strike out at anything sitting within reach – the small writing table he'd just used, which had a slowly-burning wax candle sitting on top of it; not a rational action at all. This was not a decision he wanted to make, _damn it. _But everything up until then had been for the sake of _sonno joi_ – revere the emperor and expel the barbarians, the motto by which the Ishin ran its rebellion – and if Himura's death would ensure the continuation along the path to that goal, then so be it.

_Himura, I'm sorry_.

If the courier had been let in, then someone was indeed manning the reception and would likely serve tea as well, but Katsura no longer had taste for tea. He decided to ask for sake instead.

* * *

The world was painted in red; a furious, burning rage dominated everything, making Matsuo want to see blood to match the fiery crimson of his intense anger. Battousai – who was _supposed_ to be sick enough to be on the brink of death – had nearly escaped, and had managed to drench the blood of a _stolen sword_ in the blood of at least three of his men. There had been only two sentries on duty, and the guard who had come in to check the prisoner had been careless. Perhaps it was a fitting death, to die at an invalid's hands, all because of the fact that he didn't bother to check to make sure Battousai's hands were still bound. (The ropes had been replaced with iron shackles, he had been reassured. That mistake would not be repeated.) The healers had clearly underestimated the tenacity of the demon. Such a fucking disaster, this was – word of this incident was more than likely to reach Hijikata, and would very likely cause Matsuo to lose face because he couldn't keep control over _one goddamned prisoner_.

The bloodlust called to him, stronger than ever this time as blinding fury fueled it. He wanted someone – he would take almost anyone – to pay for what had happened tonight. He had wanted to order the head of the guards and the head of the healers to commit seppuku; he had wanted to go to Battousai himself and mete out his own form of punishment for the trouble the redheaded bastard-child had caused them so far. _Gods_, he had wanted to do that so badly.

But Suzuka was a wise counselor, one of the only calming voices that could ever reach through the brilliant haze of anger like a soothing balm. Suzuka had told him not to act out foolishly, that there really had been no way they could have anticipated Battousai's physical abilities. Forcing the head of the guard and the healers to perform the ritual suicide – reserved as one of the few honorable punishments for failure by Shinsengumi law – was a waste of manpower, loyal soldiers that they needed right now.

Damned if the man wasn't right, Matsuo knew, despite the fact that he was still infuriated. Battousai's stunt wasn't solely to blame, even if it was the trigger for this fit of rage. Nothing was going as planned, or as it should have. Battousai was a grand prize, one that Hijikata should have at least shown some fucking appreciation to Matsuo for taking him off the streets for him. But no, Hijikata had _second-guessed _his claims, asking for verification. And if Battousai was well enough to nearly stage his own escape, then he was likely well enough to travel – and that would be the news that would reach Hijikata. Suzuka had dismissed them before Matsuo took out his rage irrationally on them, which was probably a wise move.

"Goddamn it," he growled, slamming a hand down on the tatami mats and not caring when several fibers of the straw snapped under the blow. Out of the corner of his eye, he was sure he saw Suzuka flinch. At a subtle _look _from Suzuka, he took a snarling breath. It did little to calm him. "I should _ensure_ Battousai can't travel to Kyoto, the sonofabitch."

"Matsuo-sama," Suzuka said, placating – a tone of voice that Matsuo _hated _– "Yoshida already told you that Battousai has been dealt with accordingly. That is cause enough to keep him here for the time being. At the very least, it'll delay Hijikata's reply by a day."

Matsuo grunted, but had to admit that Suzuka had a point. "But that won't last long."

"It will be long enough to let Hijikata think about the situation, and for you to plan your next move," Suzuka replied.

There was that – the issue of the time this situation had just bought them. Again, Suzuka had another good point, though Matsuo was unsure of how that would help them in the end.

"What if the healers deem Battousai fit for transport?" Matsuo suddenly asked.

Suzuka had opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp knock at the shoji interrupted him, and soon the head of the healers had been announced. Speak of the devil; Matsuo was not on particularly good terms with the head of the healers. Fuijii was a classically-trained older healer, one with a lot of experience. He was also being paid well to do a job he clearly didn't enjoy – they didn't see eye-to-eye on a number of issues, including prisoner treatment – and for that reason, Matsuo felt he had good cause not to entirely trust the old geezer. At least the healer had the common sense not to do anything about his displeasure; it was one of the sole reasons he still held his current position. Matsuo nodded curtly, glowering at the wizened man as he entered the room.

"Fujii-sensei." Suzuka bowed low, but the healer bowed lower.

"May I ask your permission to report on Battousai's condition?" the healer asked, the hint of a snarl barely visible on his upper lip. Matsuo chose to ignore it and nodded again, an invitation to continue; let the old bastard think what he wanted, as long as he obeyed orders. "We've discovered the origin of your prisoner's illness, my lord."

"Oh?"

"While we were unable to determine the exact cause of the illness, we do believe it has to do with the ninja clan's toxin reacting poorly to herbs Battousai had been given for treatment, my lord," Fujii explained, bowing low. "The reaction isn't fatal, but it will take him yet some time to fully recover from its effects."

Matsuo already knew as much; this was a useless report, since he already knew that the ill effects had not been enough to keep Battousai from fighting back. "What of his injuries from tonight's… activities?"

"Badly strained muscles, broken wrist, and a few reopened wounds. He is likely going to be unconscious for some time; he probably won't be able to hold a weapon properly for even longer."

"Is he capable of transport to Kyoto?" Matsuo sighed as he asked this question; he had already anticipated the answer.

"Perhaps," Fujii said thoughtfully, but after a moment, he added, "But I would strongly advise against doing so. Despite his apparent show of strength earlier this evening, he really is in rather poor condition. I'm surprised he was even able to stand. My guess would be that he managed to get as far as he did as an act of sheer desperation; desperate men do desperate things, regardless of the physical costs."

Matsuo raised an eyebrow. The healer was advising against the transport, hm? Perhaps that would be enough to at least delay Hijikata for another day or so beyond what he'd been hoping, until he could think of something else – Suzuka's counsel came to mind. Perhaps this wasn't such an awful mess just yet.

"Very well. I would like a written explanation of what you just told me," Matsuo said evenly. He would need it to send on to Hijikata, if he was asked for proof. "Check back in with me on Battousai's condition midday tomorrow. You are dismissed."

Fujii bowed low in reverence, edging his way out of the room on his knees as he did so. Once the shoji was shut and only Suzuka and his own small detail remained, Matsuo waved a hand to Suzuka. The man nodded and respectfully left the room, knowing a sign of dismissal when he saw one. Matsuo wanted some time to think this over by himself; sometimes, even Suzuka's logic defied his mind.

"You aren't going to get off so easy for long, Battousai," Matsuo promised in a low voice once he knew he was alone. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

_**.end chapter six.**_

* * *

**Long and Boring Historical/Contextual Notes**

_Kasuga Taisha_

This is also called the Kasuga Grand Shrine, and it's located in… eastern-ish Nara, across Nara Park from Todaiji (where the really huge statue of Buddha is). It's one of the older shrines in Nara, and was united philosophically-speaking with Kofuku Temple (Kofukuji), also in Nara, for a short period of time. I've been there, and have a lot of pictures – it's a really beautiful shrine that feels kind of isolated in the middle of these gorgeous woods. While I don't recall the exact layout of the area, I was able to piece together the area from my poor map (which has a huge hole in the middle of it, thanks to the crazy deer who tried to eat it) and realized that yes, I could indeed drop a Shinsengumi complex in near there. Might as well stick with an area that I've actually traveled in. (And so my secret's revealed! Yes, much of this story is based off my own speculation of what _could_ have been possible during this time period, what not with the huge influx of Shinsengumi recruits after the Ikeda-ya incident. Nara's not far from Kyoto; I don't see any reason why the rebellion wouldn't have crept down that direction.)

Anyway. Kasuga Taisha does exist in Nara, and yes, there is a huge forest around it. If Kenshin hadn't been so down and out, there might've been a nice big chase-and-fight scene there on shrine grounds. ;3

_sonno joi_

I was silly to think that this was a common term, so I appreciate the fact that my beta asked me what it meant (hence the mini-translation within the story body), and I figured I might as well offer a better explanation for it here. Literally, it does mean "revere the emperor, and expel the barbarians (foreigners)," and it was indeed used as a motto for the Ishin Shishi during the Bakumatsu. But rather than being just a phrase, it became a way of thinking. The Ishin Shishi – in theory, mind you – was planning to overthrow the old system of the Shogunate (or bakufu), since the Tokugawa shoguns were losing power and some parts of society were falling to chaos. Some blamed this on the fact that foreign traders were being allowed into the country after a very long period of government-enforced isolation. At the time, the Japanese people were very suspicious of outsiders as a whole, and the fact that the Jesuit missionaries had not done the best job of introducing the West to Japan didn't help that fact. However, as time progressed and foreign pressure increased, the Shogun had made moves to open more ports to foreign trade as both an act of placating the West and also trying to catch up with the world. Because of this, merchants (who were technically rather low-class according to the social hierarchy) were getting richer, and most samurai were finding it harder to scrape by on their menial government-supplied salaries, much less try to keep up with social trends fueled by (no surprise) the merchant class. (And, of course, merchants were more than willing to boost the prices of "rare" foreign goods before they promoted them as trends.)

So basically, the ideal of _sonno joi_ was very appealing to the samurai who were getting fed up with the current system and its abuse, and to those who were still supremely wary of foreigners and their goods. When the Ishin Shishi took it up as a battle cry of sorts, it was mostly a smack in the face to the bakufu, since it implied that they were using the Emperor merely as a puppet. Who, of course, the Ishin were using as well for their own ends – you all know that the Emperor merely serves as a puppet figurehead, right? Kind of like the Queen of England, but with even less political power.

Anyway. That's what _sonno joi_ is: the general idea that there needs to be a "return to the old Japanese ways" of honoring the Emperor's power, and that the foreigners need to go. A bit of a Japanese-supremacist attitude, but that's just how it was at the time.

(And again, feel free to ask me if any terms are unclear; I understand that not everyone who watches/reads Rurouni Kenshin will be familiar with the history surrounding it, and I also have a tendency to get a tad carried away on the historical lingo. Don't let my crazy-long explications scare you off!)

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_asjfkl;awruwoea I am so done with this chapter. It's been half-completed since shortly after the last update (whut? November?), and I finally got some writing motivation going this past week and managed to finish it. I know several sections would still greatly benefit from more fleshing out, but I am soooo sick of messing with it right now. Ughhh. Many thanks to Nekotsuki for catching my ridiculously bad errors this chapter, and for the great deal of encouragement and… uh… evil idea-spawing. Mwaha._

_Why the delay? Well, between writer's block and real life, I think that about covers it. Urk. And I had a birthday, which generally amounts to a month of moping. XD; Oh, and maybe I should mention this now – this monstrosity has been nominated for action/adventure at the 2006 RKRC awards, much to my great surprise (good Lord, what were they thinking?). Nomination booth is still open, folks, so head on over and support your favorite RurouKen fics!_


	7. 7 :: Endure

_Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Watsuki Nobuhiro and all companies affiliated with its license and translation. The setting and characters are used without permission, at no profit to the author of this fanwork._

_**EDIT**: It didn't occur to me until skenshingumi mentioned in her review that my pen name change threw her off. SO GUYS, here's your notice! I (somewhat) recently changed my pen name from BakaBokken to Dread Pirate Rinja. It's noted in my profile, but not everyone actually checks that so uh, sorry if I threw anyone else for a loop! D: I promise it's still the same writer, haha.  
_

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_Yes, I know it's been pathetically long since I've updated this story. I've got a lovely, long list of excuses why I haven't been working on this one, but you know what? No point in excusing, haha. I'm just glad I managed to write some more on this particular story. The next chapter is actually in progress, believe it or not! There are about... 15 or so scenes left after this chapter, so it's getting closer to the climax!  
_

_Thanks to Nekotsuki for her ever-amazing beta reading skills. Lord knows this chapter needed it! Also, thank you to Kellen and Varethane for additional encouragement; I love you two. :)  
_

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_**Warnings:**__ Violence, brutality/torture, mild language. This chapter is one of the main reasons this story is rated M._

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**Chapter 7: Endure**

In the dark haze of semi-consciousness, Kenshin's world narrowed to unfamiliar voices and a great deal of pain. The heavily-trained killer's instinct told him to get a grip on reality and figure out where the hell he was; his body, on the other hand, was too weary to put the fragmented pieces of his focus together at a rate his instinctive half would approve of. Instead, Kenshin chose to float in the space between cognizance and the blessed dark for the time being, slowly allowing reality to trickle back into place.

He'd spent a lot of time here of late, part of him noted wryly. And when he realized that, he also recalled why exactly he was in so much pain, and the sudden, frightful rush of adrenaline lent him just enough strength to make it all the way back to consciousness. Blinking his eyes slowly in confusion – he didn't remember when he'd opened them – he saw above him the blurred outline of an elderly man with a long, snow-white beard sprouting from his chin. The man's cold fingers dug sharply into his tender shoulder, causing him to draw a choked, gasping breath, and then the man's sharp gaze was upon him.

"You with me now, boy?" the man asked gruffly, as though irritated.

Kenshin was ashamed at the groan he felt vibrating in the back of his very sore throat, but couldn't seem to put together enough words to answer the man.

"Apparently so," said the elderly man in understanding, a frown deepening the already-pronounced wrinkles that stretched across his forehead. "But I'm afraid this would have been easier if you hadn't woken up so soon."

The fingers went back to pressing and prodding into his shoulder, and Kenshin had to grit his teeth against the agony the man was wringing out of him with his ministrations. Once the stars cleared from his vision, Kenshin noticed that the wrist on that same limb had been tightly bound with linen cloth, though the binding did little for the amount of pain he felt shooting up his arm with any attempt to move the joint. A thick metal clasp attached to a chain put a little extra pressure on his sore wrist, his fingers throbbing with each heartbeat. He was still being held prisoner, then.

"You won't be using that arm any time soon," the old man said suddenly, "but that was likely the intent of whoever it was you pissed off. Takashi, most likely. He's got a vengeful streak, that one, and your reputation will do you no good there."

Kenshin tried hard to focus his gaze on the elderly man to read his expression, but every time the man's fingers put pressure on his tender shoulder, his vision blurred just a little more and made the task nearly impossible. Was there sympathy there, or just idle chitchat? The man continued talking, though Kenshin couldn't seem to concentrate on his words either. Gods, it hurt so badly. And suddenly, the pain receded to a dull throb, and he blinked blearily up at his caretaker. The healer – which is what Kenshin assumed this man was – had _finally _pulled his probing fingers away from his shoulder.

"You with me again?" the man asked, tone flat. Kenshin blinked again. "Maybe it would have been better if you'd stayed unconscious the entire time; I'm not entitled to give you any pain relief."

Not that Kenshin had been expecting any from the Shinsengumi. _Why bother to have the old man tend my injuries? _He frowned, and almost asked, but his tongue felt thick and his throat clicked painfully when he tried to speak.

"I wouldn't try to talk if I were you, young man," the man said sternly. "I wouldn't be surprised if your throat hurt like hell after that scream last night. The entire headquarters had to have heard that. You'd nearly bitten your tongue through earlier, too."

So damned undignified, but considering how much pain he still was in, perhaps it had really been bad enough to cause him to nearly–

It finally occurred to him, that they really did want to keep him alive. Which meant they still wanted something from him. And if they wanted something from him, things were only going to get worse from here.

"Perhaps it would have been better if you _had _bitten through your tongue," the healer muttered, apparently unaware that Kenshin could hear him rather clearly. "It would have saved you the trouble of doing so later when they try to force information out of you." The old man was thinking the same thing, then, and Kenshin had to wonder…

No. Tomoe had made him promise – _promise _– to live. He couldn't let her death be in vain. But no matter what, he knew that the Shinsengumi planned on having his head, one way or another. He would have to get out of there somehow if he wanted to keep his promise. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option here.

At least, not yet.

"I wouldn't even think about trying to run, if I were you," the healer suddenly said, startling Kenshin. He blinked back up in confusion at the older man, who was frowning at him. Had he said something aloud? No, he hadn't, but something in his eyes or expression had told the healer more than enough. He'd need to work on that. "Your last attempt didn't do you much good."

Kenshin grunted; that much was true. Perhaps it hadn't really been the best time to attempt an escape, but at least he had confirmed his approximate location.

"Well, I can't do much more than bind your injuries, so I guess this is as far as I go," the healer said, wiping his hands on a piece of linen. "May the gods see fit to bestow mercy upon you."

Kenshin closed his eyes and nodded, and when he opened them again, the healer was gone. He must have dozed off, he realized sluggishly. Looking around, he saw he was in the same warehouse as before, but this time they'd taken more precautions – not only were his wrists clamped in metal instead of rope this time, they were each chained to metal poles that had been stuck deep into the dirt floor. With his injured arm, he knew it would be nearly impossible to pull either pole out of the ground.

It didn't matter much anyway. He wasn't in much condition to simply break and run for the woods now, as he'd painfully discovered earlier. Katsura was highly unlikely to send someone after him – he had done the leaving in the first place, for one, and it would be far too risky. Kenshin _prayed _that Katsura would avoid such a reckless route, especially for a simple tool like a replaceable shadow assassin. If Kenshin was going to walk out of that complex alive, he was going to have to do it on his own power, and with careful planning.

If it was possible. He had already determined that he was being kept alive for some reason, most likely information that he most likely didn't have. And if they wanted information…

He was likely in the best physical condition he would ever be within these walls, at this moment. If his previous attempt had failed, then he was almost guaranteed not to do any better on a second try in his current shape. They were on guard this time – the element of surprise was completely out of the question, barring any stupid mistakes, and Kenshin was not one to count on someone else's errors. Without any foreseeable reinforcements, he honestly did not have much of a chance. It wasn't a comforting thought, and left Kenshin with an uneasy, painful hole in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with his injuries.

He might not have any pertinent information on Katsura's whereabouts, but he did know of several Ishin safe havens in the forms of inns and temples, and he wasn't sure how much of that information he could keep quiet on should things get... serious, which they were very likely to become. In that case, perhaps the healer's none-too-subtle suggestion wasn't an unreasonable route to take.

_No. Focus. You can do this._

But the more Kenshin thought about it, the more impossible the task of escaping – or even withholding information until they finally took pity on him and killed him – seemed. He would be breaking his promise to Tomoe in either situation, wouldn't he? It wasn't a dishonorable death for a warrior to take one's own life. Even if he wasn't sure he could be called a true samurai, he prayed the gods would understand, even if Tomoe might not.

The small voice in the back of his mind telling him not to give up so damned easily slowly faded into the distance, until he could no longer hear its call. Not even the fleeting memories of Tomoe's smiling face as she died in his arms could bring him back now.

This was going to be the end.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, his teeth sank ruthlessly into his tongue until blood welled in his mouth and nearly began to choke him.

"_H-Hey! Stop him – he's trying to–"_

"_Gag him! Gag the bastard before he succeeds!"_

There were hands pulling at his hair, dirty fingers pressing into his mouth trying to force his teeth open. Now that he had gone this far, he clenched his jaw harder like a starving dog on a scrap of meat, until a fist found his jaw and stars blotted out his vision.

When he came back, he realized first that he hadn't been out for long. Someone still had their fingers woven harshly into his hair, and he distantly heard angry voices arguing around him. The second realization was that someone had pulled a dirty rag into his mouth that cut into the edges of his lips harshly, it was pulled so tight. He couldn't clench his teeth anymore, which he knew was the entire purpose of the gag. Blood still coated his mouth, running down his chin and down the back of his throat and making his stomach roil.

The voices above him started to become clearer as his vision slowly returned.

"–choke on the blood, you _idiot_! And if not the blood, then he's going to puke it all back up and choke on his own vomit – don't you remember how he was hurling all over the place when we first brought him here?"

"He'll die faster if he bites through his tongue, jackass! Unless you have a better idea, then I suggest you fuck off and leave him as he is right now," a second voice snapped. "We can keep an eye on him for when he starts turning green."

"Are you sure we shouldn't bring Fujii-sensei back in here?"

There was fear in that voice, Kenshin realized. Then there was a very strong possibility that these soldiers would get in trouble if he did indeed manage to take his own life (which he had quite apparently not accomplished). Part of him felt almost _angry _at these men for stopping him, but before he could let that emotion swell, the small voice in the back of his mind told him that he shouldn't have been so reckless, to hang on to hope even if it seemed impossible.

He then wondered if Tomoe would have been happy to see him in the afterlife under these circumstances, and in his mind he could actually _see _her sad expression as she averted her eyes and turned away from him. The realization of what he'd just almost done hit him like a harsh blow to the stomach, and suddenly he felt incredibly ill.

"Shit – he's going to choke!"

Kenshin's eyes burned as his stomach finally rebelled, and he was turned to the side, the gag removed just long enough to let him convulse as he spat up the small amount of blood he'd ingested mixed with some bile before dry heaves shook his weak body. Once his body stopped shaking and his vision began clearing, he saw blurred figures above him – his Shinsengumi guards. One of them was reaching for his face with the dirty rag again, but when he tried to protest, the blur intensified and blended with the dark spots at the edges of his sight.

His first thought upon awaking to find the gag still in place – and his nostrils being assaulted with the pungent, foul smell of stale vomit – was something along the line of, _Well, that didn't work so well_. After his eyes stopped watering and his stomach stopped trying to rebel on him again, he looked around wearily to find that his arms were now chained above him – his own weight putting a painful amount of stress on his injured arm and wrist – and that he wasn't alone.

"Ah, so you're finally awake, Battousai." The cold, unfamiliar voice was accompanied with the creak of leather being tightly stretched, and it sent a chill down Kenshin's spine. The gag tightened and shifted in his mouth as rough hands worked to loosen the gag's knot at the back of his head. "I think it's about time we had a little chat."

There was a distinct feeling pooling in his abused stomach that perhaps trying to kill himself had not been such a wise idea, after all.

* * *

Hirokatsu had been asked – in not so many words – to check in on Katsura when the Ishin leader had declined to show up for the evening meal. Okami-dono's forehead had been wrinkled with worry lines as she'd told the elderly healer of Katsura's message, and it went without saying that she was requesting that Hirokatsu check on him.

It was Himura's disappearance that was bothering Katsura; Hirokatsu knew that without a doubt. He wasn't sure exactly what the Ishin leader planned to do about it now, but it was some consolation to Hirokatsu that whatever course Katsura chose, it wouldn't come without serious contemplation. Bowing outside of the shoji leading to Katsura's rooms, he tapped quietly on the wood of the shoji.

"It's Hirokatsu," he said softly after he'd knocked.

There was a pause, and then, "Come in."

Hirokatsu waited another moment before he quietly slid open the shoji, and then peered into the mostly-dark room. Katsura was on his knees by his writing desk, a crumpled paper in one hand as he stared into the flickering lamp that cast a weak light across the room. He looked tired, worn, _frustrated_, but Hirokatsu bit his tongue as he entered and knelt down across from the younger man without a word, waiting patiently in silence to give Katsura a chance to speak first.

He had to wait several long, stretching moments before Katsura finally looked in his direction, but the Ishin leader said nothing as their eyes met. The intensity with which Katsura's eyes gleamed in the dim, however, were words enough – something had gone terribly wrong. And, considering that Hirokatsu had not heard any word on his youngest charge – Himura – he had a sinking feeling that the problem Katsura grappled with now was directly related.

Katsura's stare did not last long; within the barest of moments, he was looking away again, teeth clenched almost as tightly as the fist holding the crumpled parchment. And he was _angry_ – so angry that he was shaking.

"The Shinsengumi have him," Katsura finally said, quietly, voice quivering almost as much as his hands.

It was as Hirokatsu had feared. Himura had been in horrible shape when they'd forced him to run with them, and he _knew_ it was a bad idea to let the kid run back. Though the news did little to surprise him, he had to catch himself from clenching his own fists too harshly.

He was afraid to ask, but the words slipped out of his mouth before he could catch them: "What do you intend to do about it, Katsura-sama?"

Katsura's shoulders slumped, and he stared down at the note he still clutched in his hand. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, he said, "I… don't know. I just don't know." Another pause, and then, "I know what I _should_ do, but I don't know if… I don't think it's a fair choice for Himura."

At this point, Hirokatsu took the chance to get a closer look at the half-scrawled message that Katsura apparently had begun composing before he had intruded, and he frowned. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it looked like a corner of a black envelope was just visible from under the letter on the table–

The answers clicked into place, settling into a ball of ice in his stomach.

"You aren't seriously thinking about sending in an _assassin_ after Himura, are you?" he said, voice low and brimming with fury.

Katsura couldn't meet his eyes.

Hirokatsu saw red. Without even thinking of the ramifications for his actions, he reached forward and grabbed Katsura by the front folds of his kimono, jerking him forward and trying to force him to look him in the eye.

"Have you gone _mad_?" Hirokatsu hissed. "Himura hasn't done a damned thing to you; that _child_ went back even while half-dead to save our lives – _your_ life! And you're planning on giving him up without a fight? _What the hell is wrong with you_?!"

Setting his jaw, Katsura grabbed Hirokatsu's hands with a surprisingly strong grip, and with a stiff tug, dislodged them from his clothes. He settled back on his heels, a resolved expression firmly in place now, and _then_ he stared Hirokatsu down.

"I don't have a choice, Tatsumo," he said, his tone even this time. "If Himura were to give them _any_ information on our safehouses–"

"You really think Himura would talk?"

"Under duress, who knows." Katsura took a deep breath. "In this case, it's always best to err on the side of safety – it's Himura's life or the lives of our men."

"You're condemning him to die, _maybe_ for the sake of everyone else, then?" Hirokatsu knew his tone was cold, but _damn_ it, he was still upset. "If you're going to do that, for the gods' sake, Katsura – come up with a better reason than that! You're showing a lack of trust in someone who has done everything you've ever asked him to do. Why lose faith now?"

"This isn't a matter of lost faith, Tatsumo."

"Then what is it? A matter of resources? You know this is simply wasting all of our efforts from before to revive him after that last attack." Hirokatsu folded his arms over his chest. "You can't expect me to believe that this is the only option you've got left."

"Put yourself in my place, just for a moment," Katsura said shakily, massaging his brow with one hand. "I don't want Himura to die, either; not after… after everything he has been through for our sakes. But this isn't a matter of letting him die or live – this is a matter of _how_ he's going to die. They're going to kill him, one way or another. I'm just trying to ensure that he dies in a more honorable manner."

This argument was going nowhere, Hirokatsu realized, clenching his teeth so tightly his jaw throbbed. There were so many things he wanted to say, but the only thing that managed to find its way out of his mouth was, "So be it, then."

He stood up abruptly, glaring down his nose at Katsura, before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, closing the shoji behind him with enough force to make the wooden frame shudder at the impact. At the back of his mind, he noted that Katsura hadn't even tried to stop him. _Good – maybe he's thinking about what his plans mean to Himura._

It wasn't until he'd reached the baths later that evening when he realized that he'd forgotten to tell Katsura of Okami-dono's message. He sighed, reminding himself to check back in on Katsura once he'd had some sleep and a chance to think the situation through.

* * *

Katsura flinched when Hirokatsu slammed the shoji behind him, and then waited until he heard the healer's angry footsteps storm further down the hall before he allowed himself a deep sigh. Shoulders relaxing, he pressed his fingers back into his brow and let a soft, mirthless bark of laughter escape. Of _course_ the healer was going to be angry – he'd invested a great deal of time, effort and energy into preserving Himura's life, and it hadn't escaped Katsura's notice that the man too had grown fond of the mild-mannered young soldier. Himura's loss was a painful one to the both of them, but…

He ended the thought there, because part of him knew that Hirokatsu might be right: he was giving up on Himura far too easily. In all honesty, his gut instinct was to send in as many soldiers as he had on hand, and to go break Himura out of the Shinsengumi's clutches as soon as he'd heard they had captured the boy. But rationality forced him to remember that it was an impulse, and that the campaign would accrue heavy costs in manpower and resources.

So maybe Hirokatsu was right on that account as well, in that it was a matter of resources and a lack of faith in Himura.

But what was he to do? He couldn't play favorites just because Himura was young and highly skilled in his field. He had to keep his other soldiers' best interests in mind as well, and it would do company morale little good if many of them went in and lost their lives for a single soldier.

Katsura looked down at the half-written instructions on the parchment before him, and put it aside. Perhaps it was too early just yet to send another assassin in after Himura, but just in case, he kept the letter in the drawer of his writing desk.

* * *

Tomoe smiled demurely at him from the doorway of their shared abode in Otsu, but there was no deception in her face. It was then that Kenshin realized for the first time that he really, truly loved her, and that he would kill – even die – for her sake. It was an image that stuck out in his mind, and it was the first place he escaped to when the pain became too overwhelming. Here, in the memory, the cracks of the whip and the angry, snarled questions faded into the back of his consciousness, and he swore he could hear the crackle of the fire behind him in the memory.

"_You're not allowed to pass out on me yet, Battousai."_

Cold water stole his breath, stinging as it ran down his bare, bruised and bloody back, and brought him back to his own personal hell with a harsh, painful gasp. His right arm was a mass of fiery pain; the restraints held his wrists so far above his head that his toes barely touched the ground, and the strain on his lungs was almost as excruciating as the sharp stabs of agony traveling up and down his mangled arm. His back was a mass of fire. Each breath was a chore, coming out in wheezes and quiet noises of pain that Kenshin began to hate himself for.

"Matsuo-sama–" a quiet voice warned, but suddenly fell quiet.

"The demon is hardly at death's door," Matsuo snarled, and Kenshin was sure he could hear the damnable creak of the leather whip being readied for use again. "Hijikata was able to flay a man like this until the skin fell off his back, and even then, the man survived for several more days. A few welts and cuts aren't going to kill him."

The other voice was silenced, and Kenshin felt his aching shoulders tense reflexively as Matsuo's heavy footsteps drew closer – so close, that Kenshin could feel the man's hot breath on the battered back of his neck. A rough hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look at the man's glittering, deep set eyes and crooked-toothed grin. Kenshin narrowed his eyes and poured as much ire into his glare as he could manage, teeth pressing painfully into the sides of his mouth from Matsuo's strong grip.

"See?" he said, gaze not leaving Kenshin's. "Battousai's still got some fight left in him. Don't you, _murderer_?"

Kenshin didn't have the opportunity to reply (even if he had wanted to) before Matsuo's hand left his face and patted his cheek in a mockingly patronizing manner as he paced around his victim like a predator toying with its prey.

"I guess we still have a ways to go before you're willing to speak, then," Matsuo said, taking a step out of Kenshin's line of sight. Kenshin allowed his shoulders to relax slightly then, but let out a sharp cry of pain and surprise when the whip cracked harshly against his back once more without warning.

Kenshin took a shaking breath, staring down at the ground and tugging himself a little more upright to pull in more air. The stinging subsided in his back, but his arms and shoulders were still aching, and he had a bad, bad feeling that his right arm was in serious trouble. And if he didn't have his sword arm, he was going to be in serious trouble when he finally got loose.

Because, damn it, he _was_ going to get out of here alive. He _had _to.

And Matsuo was going to be the first on his list of people that needed to die.

"You still haven't answered the first question," he said, managing to sound only partially annoyed. "Where is Katsura Kogoro?"

Kenshin wasn't sure what was worse – the fact that Matsuo was well versed in the feared Hijikata Toushizou's torture methods and had a skilled hand with the whip, or the fact that Matsuo was terrible at interrogation. The man clearly had no idea what kinds of questions he _should_ be asking – ones that Kenshin would actually have answers to – and didn't know how to measure out his punishment effectively. Matsuo was too heavy-handed with the whip, and should he keep up his current pace, Kenshin wondered if the man might end up killing him far too quickly.

The whip cracked again, and Kenshin flinched and hissed as it wrapped around his left side, the end of the leather flicking sharply near the edge of the healing bullet wound on his abdomen. Another crack of the whip brought another flare of pain across his shoulders as the leather thong covered wounds already in existence. Several more lashes like this, and Kenshin's vision began to blur again, much like it had before.

Then, there was a pause, accompanied by some rustling and creaking of leather behind him. Kenshin didn't dare try to look as he panted harshly and tried pulling himself up again to try to relieve the growing pressure in his chest.

"I'll give you one last opportunity to answer my question, boy – where is Katsura?"

_One last opportunity before what?_ Kenshin snorted softly, then shuddered as he tried drawing in another breath, but didn't get the chance to think about it too long before the whip cracked again.

This time, however, the pain was sharper, had a broader reach, and lasted much longer than it had before. He gasped as stars burst across his eyes, unable to breathe as he was struck again – and _again _– with Matsuo's modified whip. Lungs seizing, his vision whited out and his ears rang so loudly that he was sure he was going deaf.

"_Matsuo-sama – his lips are turning blue–"_

"_You're going to kill him–"_

"_Shut up, all of you! He isn't going to die that easily – cut the bastard down, and get Fujii-sensei in here."_

When air rushed back into his lungs so quickly that he thought they were going to burst, Kenshin felt himself fall forward. Rough hands pressed against the fire in his back, and he heard no more.

* * *

Suzuka shuddered as he watched two (very drunk) Shinsengumi cart a limp and bloodied Battousai out of the warehouse at Fujii's frantic direction. The young assassin's back was so battered by the time Matsuo finally stopped beating the kid that Suzuka was sure he'd seen strips of skin hanging off of the red, shredded, dripping mess. Suzuka was not new to blood – he was a samurai in the middle of a war, after all – but the sight of raw, tenderized human flesh made his skin crawl, and it took a great deal of willpower to keep the sickened feeling in his stomach from showing on his face.

Matsuo had to have been drunk – or insane – to willingly inflict such punishment on a body so young. It didn't help that Matsuo was asking all the wrong questions in the process (how the hell was Battousai supposed to know where Katsura was? The rebel leader was like a slippery eel; he moved so often that it was extremely difficult to track him, and Matsuo should have known at least that much). Perhaps the real interrogation had not begun yet; Matsuo _couldn't_ be that foolish. This had to have something to do with Battousai's earlier attempt at escape.

Or, perhaps, it was an attempt on Matsuo's part to show Hijikata that he was capable of sheer brutality. Mimicry as a form of flattery – it wasn't an unlikely explanation for Matsuo's rather extreme interrogation session with their captive, especially since it completely failed to yield useful information. Instinctively, Suzuka felt that Hijikata was not going to find Matsuo's methods flattering at all, that the famed Shinsengumi leader would be outraged by it instead.

If Suzuka wasn't careful about how he approached Matsuo – or Hijikata's spy, who had undoubtedly been witness to the entire scene – he knew that his neck would be at stake as well.

And that was the most frustrating problem of them all – Suzuka remembered a time when Matsuo actually trusted those around him. Those days, Suzuka knew how to read his lord, and could interpret how to best serve him, and Matsuo had recognized that skill. Matsuo's trust in him had enabled him to gain a status he never would have been able to reach under any other was hard-pressed to betray that trust now, because in a sense, he felt that he truly _owed_ Matsuo his allegiance.

But Matsuo's recent behavior was wedging a slab of doubt into his staunch loyalty; he felt he was unable to do his job as a proper vassal and advisor, and with his own neck at stake, he had been wondering if this Battousai venture meant more to Matsuo than the lives of the vassals that had faithfully served him all these years. Suzuka had never felt his loyalty more threatened by anything before, and it made him uneasy and uncertain about how to approach his lord with this very problem.

He didn't have long to dwell on his own strategy, however. As he left the warehouse to return to his own chambers, a pebble bounced off his shoulder, and he heard a sound that faintly sounded like an animal rustling through the brush that surrounded this walkway. Carefully glancing around to make sure nobody else was paying attention, he made a small forward motion with his head – there was a small shrine ahead that would likely be untouched.

Standing before the prayer offerings box at the shrine, he bowed twice, clapped twice, and bowed again before he said – softly enough to pass as a prayer – "What do you ask of me?"

"Tell me what you think just happened in there." The voice was so quiet that Suzuka had to strain his ears to hear it.

He knew immediately that his answer would determine what side he was on. And the answer that came the most instinctively to him was hardly in Matsuo's favor.

"Matsuo had no intention of gathering information from that session," Suzuka said, keeping his head bowed and voice low. "That was a matter of revenge and a piss-poor attempt at flattery."

There was a soft snort – _laughter? _– and then, "You noticed that as well?"

"There is only one thing on Matsuo's mind constantly, and that is the acquisition of power through any means possible."

"And you don't think he will achieve that feat?"

Was the spy baiting him? Suzuka's brows furrowed, but he kept his eyes closed. "I do not."

"Hmm."

Suzuka tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he sensed another presence in the brush, but heard nothing.

"Tell me, then, Suzuka – what do you believe was Matsuo's intention in beating Battousai to the extent he did?"

"He doesn't want to relinquish his captive to Kyoto," Suzuka replied. "He feels that if he keeps Battousai incapacitated to the point of being unable to travel without the real possibility of death, he will get to hang on to his prize."

Suzuka knew that he had essentially placed his betrayal in words, but this was a matter of survival at this point. The spy would glean the same information from elsewhere, if not from him – Matsuo was unlikely to win in this small political skirmish over Battousai. Matsuo had already shown Suzuka his motives, and they were no longer in Suzuka's favor. He simply was allying himself with the most likely winner; no more, no less. Holding his breath as he waited for the spy's reply, he resisted the foolish urge to look around to make sure nobody else was watching or listening.

"You are a shrewd man, Suzuka," came the amused reply after a moment. "Await further instructions – you will find an envelope in your writing desk sealed with black wax in three days. It will be on the day before Matsuo receives a reply back from Hijikata-sama. Continue to observe Matsuo's actions until then, and ensure that he doesn't kill Battousai just yet."

A brush of a light breeze rustled the greenery around the shrine, and Suzuka no longer sensed the presence of the spy nor his companion. Expelling the breath he'd been holding, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at his shaking hands. A bark of shaky, nervous laughter bubbled over his lips.

_Perhaps I truly am a coward._

* * *

Battousai had made progress in the last four days, Fujii-sensei had said, but Matsuo could tell that the healer was extremely reluctant to reveal that much. He didn't like the way Fujii's eyes glinted disapprovingly as he talked about the treatment of Battousai – what, was he siding with a criminal now? – or the way the healer had not volunteered this information without Matsuo's inquiry into the matter first.

Matsuo wasn't so sure he could trust Fujii-sensei to be forward with him, but on the other hand, Fujii had the most talent of all the healers in the area. He would have to discuss the issue with Suzuka before he made a final decision.

For now, he still needed information from Battousai, who was awake and glaring at him from across the room with a piercing gaze that promised violence, if unleashed. Matsuo didn't care that Fujii considered the hitokiri to be just a boy; that _child _was a murderer, a demon straight from hell itself. Those eyes only proved his case.

But those eyes also meant that Matsuo had hardly broken Battousai.

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see," Matsuo commented dryly, breaking the silence that had permeated the warehouse. He didn't expect an answer, nor did he get one. "I suppose I haven't been hard enough on you yet."

The eyes stayed fixed on him, still glittering with violent intent, unblinking, and part of Matsuo wanted to be angry. But he knew that no matter how defiant Battousai planned on acting, the boy hardly was in control here – Matsuo had the upper hand, after all, and he refused to relinquish it to this demon. He was going to have to force the hitokiri to come to terms with that fact.

He stepped towards Battousai, who was on his knees, arms pulled to the sides and chained to small metal loops that were tightly wedged into the warehouse floor, leaving the hitokiri in an awkward mockery of a bow. Bared to the waist and stripped of bandages, the red, angry lines left on Battousai's back from Matsuo's previous harsh treatment stood out in stark contrast to the ghostly pallor of the young man's skin.

"You still haven't answered my questions, Battousai," Matsuo said evenly, staring down his nose. Battousai wasn't looking up at him from this position – he would have had to crane his neck awkwardly in order to do so – and was instead looking at Matsuo's feet. "You should know by now that we won't let you die until you answer them."

Matsuo squatted down, grabbing Battousai by the chin and forcing him to meet his gaze, and blinked in surprise. Some part of him had been expecting anger, hatred, and maybe even fear, but he saw none of those in the glittering yellow of the famed hitokiri's eyes. Instead, there was quiet resolve and… sadness? _Hah_, as if the boy had any right to feel sorrow – the murderer had too much blood on his hands to be allowed such emotions, and the fact that Battousai had them was making Matsuo irritable. Disgusted, he roughly shoved the boy's face to the side and stood up, turning his back to the prisoner as he motioned to one of his subordinates to hand him his favorite whip.

"I will give you one last chance to answer me: Where is Katsura Kogoro?"

He waited in silence, counting to fifteen under his breath before he turned and cracked the whip down harshly across Battousai's back. To Matsuo's grim pleasure, Battousai flinched and hissed as the leather struck tender, still-healing injuries. A thin line of blood droplets formed along several of the red lines – a small detail filed in the back of Matsuo's mind as he struck again, and then again when there still was no answer.

By the tenth stroke, he finally managed to get a small gasp out of his victim, and he paused briefly. Several of the wounds had broken open on the young man's back by this point, and blood steadily trickled around heaving ribs as Battousai tried to catch his breath.

"You will answer me, boy, or you will not get such a merciful death," Matsuo warned in a low voice. "Where is Katsura? What inns have been harboring him in Kyoto? In Nara?"

He pulled the whip tightly between both hands, the leather creaking threateningly. Battousai looked like he was having trouble drawing deep breaths from his position, but showed no sign of talking. Grinding his teeth, Matsuo handed the whip back to the guards assisting him, and motioned for one of them to bring a tray forward that held two long iron nails, two candles, a hammer, and a few matches.

"Did you know that Hijikata was the one to get the information that led to the Ikeda-ya raid?" Matsuo pulled straps from the inside pouch of his kimono sleeve, and used them to tie the large flaps of fabric back. Then, he picked up one of the two nails lying on the tray, holding up the sharp end between two fingers and looking at it thoughtfully. "He used an interesting technique, which I have heard works wonders in the interrogation room. Let's see how well his technique actually works on stubborn prisoners."

Two of the other guards exchanged nervous glances once Matsuo looked at them and nodded towards Battousai. This wasn't going to be pretty, but it didn't excuse the fact that his new recruits were horribly weak-minded. They were soldiers, and finding information – especially important information that could help bring the very leader of their enemies down – was part of their job description. Matsuo's lip curled as he watched them unchain Battousai, pull him to his feet, and tightly hold his arms in place of the chains. Another guard moved forward with a rope, grabbing at Battousai's feet – he had a very close encounter with Battousai's foot as the hitokiri lashed out with a sharp kick.

"Still have some fight in you, eh?" Matsuo said, taking another step forward and twirling the nail around in his fingers. "I will enjoy watching you break, Battousai."

The third guard took a swig from a bottle of alcohol he kept in his robes – Matsuo didn't stop him – before he reached out and grabbed Battousai's feet firmly, binding them with thick rope. The two guards at Battousai's arms then lifted him into the air just long enough for the third guard to slide a thick board under his heels. Matsuo handed him the nail and a hammer.

"You know what to do. Just do one for now," Matsuo instructed with a sneer.

The guard's hands were visibly shaking as he took another long draught from his bottle, then he took the proffered nail and hammer and positioned the sharpened tip of the nail over the center of Battousai's left foot. The demon's eyes widened with sudden horror, much to Matsuo's delight, just before the guard raised the hammer and drove it down on the nail.

This was the second time Matsuo had had the pleasure of hearing Battousai scream, and he relished in the sound.

"String him up," he said, once the guards regained control over the thrashing prisoner.

In moments, Battousai's arms were also bound, and Matsuo was looking at Battousai's pained face upside-down. He couldn't help but smirk at how quickly the boy's face was turning red. A guard lit the first of two candles from the tray

"Since I tend to be a generous man, I will give you one last chance: Give me a list of names that harbor Ishin, and I will give you a swift and painless death."

Battousai managed a glare through the mask of pain on his face, but again said nothing. It was just as well, at this point.

"Very well, then," Matsuo said evenly.

He took the glowing candle from the guard and – with the help from a stool – stood up above Battousai's feet, tapping the sharp, bloodied end of the nail protruding from the even bloodier foot before he eased the soft, hot wax of the candle down over the nail. Several drops of liquid wax dripped onto the sole of Battousai's foot, each eliciting a pained gasp from the prisoner. Once the candle was standing on its own with the help of the nail, Matsuo stepped back down to observe his handiwork.

Candle wax dribbled down from the flame, over the sides of the candle to first pool in the sole of Battousai's foot. The hitokiri thrashed in his bonds, gritting his teeth as more wax melted down over his foot and onto the backs of his calf – _that _was when he started screaming. The room began to reek of burning human flesh, and one of the guards who had previously held back Battousai's arms turned green and lunged for the warehouse door.

And yet Battousai still refused to talk.

Matsuo was getting irritated as Battousai's screams died into yelps, then to occasional harsh gasps of pain. His lips were turning blue by the time Suzuka came to knock on the warehouse door, eyeing Battousai nervously as he approached Matsuo and bowed low with an envelope held in his outstretched hands.

"Matsuo-sama, these are orders that just arrived by messenger from Kyoto," Suzuka explained, staying low, but Matsuo didn't miss the wrinkling of his subordinate's nose as Suzuka caught the stench of burning flesh. "They're from headquarters."

"Ah, so Hijikata finally sends his reply," said Matsuo as he took the envelope and broke the seal. Eyes quickly scanned the document, and he blinked several times before he looked back over it to make sure he hadn't misread the instructions.

He hadn't.

With gritted teeth, he glared over at Battousai and grabbed for his whip, but Suzuka cleared his throat and quickly spoke, interrupting Matsuo's onset of ire.

"Matsuo-sama, with all due respect, you're going to have to make sure Battousai is in one piece when you send him to Kyoto," Suzuka said, cautious and quiet and all-too-reasonable. "The execution has already been announced publicly, and will be open to a special crowd in Kyoto; the messenger explained this to me as he gave me the envelope. Hijikata will not be pleased if you kill Battousai before he's due at headquarters."

Matsuo gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he felt one of them crack, but he couldn't deny that Suzuka had a very valid point. As he glared down the bleeding and writhing hitokiri – who was still hanging upside down by his feet, candle wax still dripping down his leg – he suddenly realized that it was unlikely that Hijikata even knew what the demon looked like. Matsuo had been surprised when he'd first seen that Battousai was nothing more than a teen with extraordinary skill with the sword; perhaps the great Hijikata would also be in for a surprise.

Or, perhaps, Hijikata wouldn't be able to tell if Matsuo switched out Battousai with someone who would look more suitable for the part.

"Suzuka, who else do we have in our holding cells?" he asked suddenly.

Suzuka blinked. "A few other miscreants – a couple peasants who didn't pay past-due tribute, a thief or two. Shall I clear them out for you?"

"No," Matsuo replied with a grin. "I'll need you to fetch one of them for now. Bring me the one that looks the strongest."

Suzuka's eyes widened in realization, and then he bowed reverently. "Yes, Matsuo-sama."

Matsuo watched his men cut a nearly-unconscious, bleeding and shivering Battousai down as Suzuka left, smirking all the while. Hijikata would not steal his hard-earned prize from him so easily. Not this time.

* * *

The news of a public execution at the Shinsengumi headquarters made Katsura's skin crawl, his knee-jerk reaction of disgust and anger kicking in. When he got information that it was the famous hitokiri Battousai scheduled to be publicly shamed and killed, he had to restrain himself from punching through the shoji that led to the interior garden of the inn he was staying at.

Katsura's most trusted advisors, including Hirokatsu, were watching him intently as the messenger relayed the news. Hirokatsu's expression was unreadable, though the healer's posture still betrayed some anger after their last confrontation. They hadn't spoken in the several days that had passed since.

But then Katsura realized that the Shinsengumi had essentially told him where Kenshin would be at a specific time. This was either an extremely stupid mistake on their part, or…

"They're trying to lure me out," Katsura said solemnly once the messenger left.

One of his advisors, Ishikawa, nodded earnestly. "There's hardly any doubt that this is a trap, but it also means that they haven't killed Himura yet."

"But it could also mean that they've pulled all the information they need from him, and thus they no longer need him alive," said Kato, another advisor.

"If they had managed to get any information out of him, Kato, don't you think they would have moved in on us already?" Hirokatsu pointed out. "If they received any useful information from Himura, they would know we move constantly and that they'd have to move quickly if they didn't want their intelligence to go stale."

"Besides, how do we even know it's Himura they're bringing to Kyoto? It could be some poor idiot dressed up to look like Battousai, for all we know," Ishikawa added.

"In that case, Himura is likely dead," Kato replied.

Ishikawa snorted. "If they're announcing his execution instead of advertising his death, I have a strong feeling that he still is alive."

"But this still is a trap."

Katsura watched the argument slowly break out between Kato and Ishikawa, but didn't pay much attention to the words they were saying. Ishikawa did have several good points; perhaps it would be prudent to have two groups – one that went to the announced execution, and another group that went to Nara headquarters to scope out the situation there. He would need to use the men who actually knew what Himura looked like, but maybe… just _maybe_ this could work.

Hirokatsu was staring at him again, and he shifted. He really wanted the healer's input on his forming plan – despite the fact that they were both still irritated at each other, Hirokatsu was one of his most trustworthy men, especially when it came to Himura.

"What do you mean you don't think Himura is worth going after?" Ishikawa was saying angrily, once Katsura began to pay attention again. "After all he's done for the Ishin–"

"That's enough, Ishikawa, Kato," Katsura said, raising a hand to silence them. "Would you gentlemen please excuse me? I need to think about something."

The two arguing advisors exchanged irritated glances, before bowing to Katsura and taking their leave. When Hirokatsu got up to follow them, Katsura motioned him to stay and sit down across from him. The healer's expression gave none of his thoughts away as he complied.

"I… think you were right about me, about giving up on Himura too quickly," Katsura said, once Hirokatsu had been settled. "I've been thinking, and I may have a plan to retrieve Himura. Alive," he added when he saw Hirokatsu shift in his seat.

The healer regarded Katsura seriously for a few moments; Katsura began to feel nervous, but then a grin spread across Hirokatsu's face.

"I was hoping that was what you were going to say," he said conspiratorially. "So, what did you have in mind?"

* * *

_**.end chapter seven.**_

* * *

**Historical Note**

A short note this time! The torture method that Matsuo credits Hijikata for – the nails through the feet with a candle dripping hot wax part – was something that Hijikata did actually use, and it did apparently produce the information that led to the Ikeda-ya raid (from the information I've been able to find on the matter). Yeah, not very nice, is it? Dx

* * *

_As many of you know, a beloved member of the RurouKen fan community recently passed, and while I think my poor writing is hardly a decent tribute, I would like to dedicate the remainder of this story to the memory of HakuBaikou. Her fanfiction "Against a Sea of Troubles" was one of the first I came across in the RK section here at FFnet, and it was one of the reasons I went ahead and chanced writing and posting the original version of this story. I would like to extend my condolences and prayers to her family and close friends; she was a beautifully talented individual who will be greatly missed._

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_Again, I sincerely apologize for the (almost two-year) delay. As far as further historical notes go, if there's any cultural or historical material in this chapter that anyone wants further explanation for, please do let me know! I'll try not to be almost two years until the next update, I promise! That is, if any of you folks are still even reading this story, haha._


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